


Starlight

by TheNightingaleLily



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, POV Lavellan (Dragon Age), POV Original Character, Parent Death, Physical Abuse, Slavery, Teenage Fenris, Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age), mentions of physical abuse, there's a cat in it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 25,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23277115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheNightingaleLily/pseuds/TheNightingaleLily
Summary: Sylana is a slave. She knows that, but she doesn't mind. She gets to share a room with her loving mother, work keeps her busy and safe from boredom, and she's finally learned to behave, so she hasn't faced a beating from the Masters in several years.Now, two people have entered her life with drastically different consequences. Leto, bringing kindness and love in a form she's never known. And Hadriana, the Magister's assistant, bringing a new brand of cruelty.Which will have the bigger impact on this young girl's life?
Relationships: Fenris/Female Elf OC, Fenris/Female Lavellan, Leto(Fenris)/Female Elf OC
Comments: 18
Kudos: 21





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the first fic I've written for anything ever! A note before you get started: while this fic is tagged as Fenris/Lavellan, the first part takes place when they are both teenagers, so Fenris is not yet Fenris and Lavellan has not yet joined Clan Lavellan (but I'm sure you care more about the former). But they will become these characters eventually, so read on if you'd like, and I hope you enjoy!

It was such a beautiful day. Sylana gazed into the impossibly clear sky as she walked, her pointed ears raised slightly in contentment. Today was delivery day and she was on her way to pick up her third one that morning. Normally she hated these days; so much running back and forth and waiting ages for the supplies she was meant to fetch and insisting to the suppliers that yes, she could carry a 10 kilo bag of flour just fine. But today...today the weather was gorgeous and she so rarely got to venture outside that she decided to take just a little bit longer than usual on her journeys between buildings. 

It was in the gardens between the grand hall and the front gate that Sylana spotted something that made her thankful she hadn’t rushed through: an elf boy playing with a tiny orange kitten. It was rare to see other teen aged elves; the Masters didn’t like them to reproduce. She had only met two other girls close to her age, years ago during her childhood, and they had both left before she could really get to know them. 

She had certainly never seen an elf quite like him. He had darker skin and a wider jaw than she had ever seen in the elves on the estate. If she was being honest with herself, she found him remarkably handsome. Of course she would absolutely _not_ be honest with herself in this matter, and settled on being intrigued rather than...attracted.

The cat seemed to lose interest in the leaf the boy was lazily shaking at it and sauntered off. The boy stood and began towards the manor-elf quarters and Sylana made the obvious decision. Well, she just had to follow him, didn’t she? The bakers could wait.

She kept pace behind him, keeping her distance and trying her best to appear as if she was admiring the flowers and just happened to be moving in the same direction. After several minutes, the boy reached and entered the quarters, closing the door behind him. She chuckled quietly at her stealth; he never suspected a thing. Sylana waited a few moments for him to make his way down the hall before opening the door herself and—

She barely stifled a startled yelp. He was standing right there, right inside the door, his gaze burning into her, and she immediately regretted her decision. She stiffly turned her head, both to avoid his eyes and to hide her reddening cheeks.

“What do you want?”

She risked turning her face slightly towards him to speak. “I, um...I...haven’t seen you around before. I thought you might be new here. I was...curious. That’s all. Are you? New, I mean.”

He must have spotted a guard over her shoulder, because he quickly tugged on her arm, pulling her in and closing the door.

“You hadn’t thought of perhaps introducing yourself instead of stalking me?” he hissed, subverting her question.

Sylana stared at him for a moment in a way that must have made her look like a fool. “No, actually, I hadn’t. It was ah...a bit of a spontaneous decision, if I’m honest.” She couldn’t quite manage to hold his gaze, but when she did, she noticed for the first time his stunningly green eyes and was entranced by the sheer beauty of them.

“Mhm.” Those harsh eyes softened just slightly and he leaned against the wall. “Yes. I arrived a few days ago. I'm Leto.”

“Sy—uh—Cassia,” she corrected. She often forgot she wasn’t meant to speak her Elvhen name aloud. Luckily, it had never gotten her in any real trouble. “Nice to meet you, Leto. And I apologize for, well...stalking you, as you put it. Perhaps you would allow me to show you around the castle grounds, to make it up to you?”

“No need. I’m sure you have more important ways to spend your time. You work, I assume.”

“Not really. Well, yes, but only a few days a week. When the older women need me.”

“Mhm…”

“Oh come on. It’s really no trouble. I would like to make a friend.”

He arched an inquisitive eyebrow. “Do you not have any?”

Sylana’s cheeks flushed slightly and her ears twitched. “Well, not really...there aren’t many elves my age here. Not one, actually. The closest thing I have are the women who helped raise me.”

He regarded her through slightly squinted eyes for a few moments, then huffed, “Alright. If you wish, you can show me around.”

“Fantastic! I just need to fini—oh kaffas, the flour!” Sylana managed to stutter a quick “I’msorryI’llfindyoulaterIhaveto...ah!” before charging through the door and in the direction of the stable.

Maker, first she stalked him, then admitted to having no friends, then ran off like a sheep on fire. Could she have made a worse first impression?

~~~

“Syl! Where have you been??”

Sylana had finished her jobs and returned home an hour later than she normally would, perilously close to curfew. She had prepared for a scolding from Mamai, but she was not expecting the tone of voice that met her. That was not a good tone. When Sylana heard that tone, paired with her mother’s ears lowered like a frightened cat’s, it meant she had done something very, very wrong. Worse than simply being in trouble, it meant she had worried her mother and that was unbearable.

Sylana’s own ears lowered to mirror her mother’s and she hung her head. “Mamai, I’m so sorry...I…”

“You cannot neglect your duties, Sylana! If the Masters found out!” Laelia was nearly frantic now, eyes wide and glistening. She turned away from her daughter but Sylana could tell by her ragged breaths that she was taking a moment to sob. She took one deep breath to compose herself before speaking the last thing Sylana wanted to hear, something that truly terrified her.

“If the Masters found out...you could be punished. You know this, and I cannot bear to see it again, da’len. They could even take you away from me, do you understand?” Laelia let out a shaky sigh and met her child’s teary gaze, “We are slaves, da’len...we are not here by choice. We may have an easier existence than most, but we are still _slaves_. You are nearing adulthood, you should be realizing this by now.”

The thought of being separated from Mamai made Sylana sick to her stomach. She would have nothing without her. She was all she had in life. Crossing the room, she threw her arms around her mother and clung like a terrified child.

“I will never do it again, Mamai, I promise,” she murmured into her mother’s shoulder. She felt a warm tear hit her own shoulder just as one left her own eye. “I love you and I’ll never do it again. I’m so sorry…”

They held each other in emotional tatters for a few moments, muttering apologies and words of love and assurance until they both were composed and the tears had dried. 

“You have it easy anyway, da’len,” Laelia smiled as she wiped the remaining tears away, “you don’t yet have to work every day. Enjoy that while you can, but when you have work to do, you must... _you must_ do it.”

“Yes, Mamai. I promise.” 

Laelia placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Well, did you at least have a good reason to worry your poor elderly mother?”

“Oh, you are not that old,” Sylana groaned, but giggled. “But...I suppose I did. It was such a nice day, at first I simply wanted to enjoy the sun, but then I saw a boy in the gardens. I...got distracted.”

“A boy, hm? Elven?” Laelia asked warningly. The slaves were not permitted to interact with the human children, a lesson Sylana learned all too well when she was five and tried to play ball with a visiting lord’s son. The subsequent beating had given her two of the scars on her lips.

“Yes, no need to worry,” Sylana didn’t quite realize that she was developing a grin, “his name is Leto and I think he’s just a bit older than me. He’s just arrived and I told him I would show him around the grounds. If...you think that would be alright?”

“Hm…” Laelia said, seemingly to herself, with an odd look on her face that Sylana couldn’t quite interpret. It quickly turned to a smile so it must not have been too bad. “Yes I think that sounds reasonable. Just be careful, make sure it’s before curfew and neither of you have work to do. But you may think of that tomorrow, for now you must go to bed, da’len.”

“Yes ma’am.” She washed up in their small washbasin, making a note to change the water in the morning, and curled up on her bedroll for the night.

“Good night, Mamai. I love you.”

“I love you too, sweet one."

~~~

It took nine days for Sylana to track down the elf boy. She asked around in the kitchens and bakehouses, but nobody had heard of an elf named Leto. At one point she began worrying that he had already been moved, but she finally got word from one of the manor-slaves that he had seen such an elf just the other day. While this was good news, she wasn’t allowed in the manor, so she begrudgingly resigned herself to waiting.

She finally found him exactly where she had first seen him: in the gardens, playing with the same kitten.

“Leto! There you are! I’ve been looking for you for days. I thought we had a date,” she grinned as she walked up to him. That grin turned to something else entirely when she realized that she had just said ‘date.’ “I—I mean! An appointm—plans! Plans to—I said I would show you around, didn’t I?”

Leto simply cocked an eyebrow and stood to greet her. Whether he hadn’t caught her strange choice of word or was choosing to ignore it, she wasn’t sure, but she was certainly grateful.

“Cassia. I apologize, I’ve been working, and Mother...she doesn’t know this place so she likes me to stay close. Inside.”

“Yes, my mother was the same way when we arrived here. I’m sure she’ll let up soon.” 

She stooped to pet the small kitten, fur the uncanny color of fire, who was cautiously sniffing to investigate her. “It seems you’ve made a friend already. What’s her name?”

The kitten rolled onto its back, asking for a belly rub, and Leto obliged. “If she has one, I don’t know it.” 

“Well why don’t you give it one?” Sylana sat across from him and began baiting the kitten with her fingers. It escaped from under Leto’s hand and began nipping at hers, catching her smallest finger in its needle-sharp teeth. 

“Ouch! Quick little thing,” she freed her finger and rubbed it, “how about Swift?”

Leto looked up at her wryly. “That’s a terrible name for a cat,” he said.

“Fine, you come up with one then,” she huffed, eliciting a smirk from him.

“Andruil.”

“The Elvhen goddess?”

“Goddess of the hunt." He scooped up the kitten and held her in outstretched arms. "This one will grow up to be a fierce hunter, I’m sure!”

The kitten stared at Leto and gave a tiny mewl. “Well, it seems she approves. Alright, Andruil it is. Dru for short?” Leto gave an approving nod. “Shall we take her on our little tour?”

Leto opened his hands and let the kitten fall and land safely, if a little clumsily, on four legs. “I think it’s best we leave her here. I suspect her mother is around somewhere.”

“Yes, alright,” she gave the kitten a final head rub and started towards the stables, where she had decided to start her tour.

She took him in a circuit around the interior walls, inside the grand hall, and through the kitchens. She introduced him to a few of her favorite cooks, quietly telling him which ones would sneak him extra food if he needed it or the occasional dessert if he had a sweet tooth. She pointed out the bakehouses.

“Aren’t we going in?” Leto asked as they walked past, “we went into all the others.”

She was hoping he wouldn’t say that. Sylana was fairly certain that Mamai was working in the bakehouses at that moment and she wasn’t in any hurry to let her meet her new friend. She wasn’t entirely sure why, if she was honest, she just knew it wasn’t something she looked forward to. So she had to think of an excuse.

“Oh, well the bakers are usually very busy this time of day, I wouldn’t want to disturb them.” That seemed to do the trick, as Leto just nodded and kept walking.

They ended their trip just as the sun was setting, on a portion of the battlements that the slaves were permitted access to. She pointed out each of the nearby villages that she had learned the names of, and a few of which she hadn’t. Those ones she had created names for herself.

“Many of us aren’t allowed outside the walls of the estate, so I don’t suspect either of us will ever make it to any of them, but...sometimes I like to look at them and imagine what life must be like there.” She pointed at a small village far off on the horizon. “That one is my favorite. One night when I was young there were fireballs of all different colors shooting into the sky so I named it Starshine. Mamai said it must have been some sort of celebration.”

“It sounds beauti—”

He was interrupted by the clang of the curfew bell, which sent a wave of dread through Sylana. It was early today, and that usually meant something had happened. Someone had tried to escape or perhaps a Master had gotten too heavy handed and killed an elf. She looked quickly in the direction of her dormitories, but saw no movement. Perhaps it wasn’t anyone she knew, then. 

“I have to go. Get home as quickly as you can and make sure your family is safe.”

Leto nodded and left down the way they had come.

When Sylana turned to make her own way home, she saw that a group of guards was riding through the courtyard. They were followed by three elves in shackles, but there was a fourth.

Slung over the lead guard’s saddle was the lifeless, bloodied body of an elven woman.

Sylana took off running.

~~~

“Sylana! Oh, thank the Creators.” Laelia had her arms around Sylana before their bedroom door latched. “The bell. I was worried…”

“I’m alright, Mamai. Where is everyone else? Are they safe?”

“Yes, but...Livia. She has farm duty this week, she’s out at the farmhouse.”

The bell. The woman. It was indeed someone she knew. “Oh... oh no, Livia…” She was a girl not much older than Sylana that worked in the kitchens. Once upon a time they had played as children. They had never truly become friends, but she knew her. Sylana felt her knees grow weak and, lacking any kind of immediate seating to catch her fall, she slid her back down the wall and settled onto the floor, hugging her knees.

Laelia gaped at her daughter and then turned her head in pain. “Did you see her?” she whispered.

“I think so. There was a group of guards riding in when the bell rang. They had...I didn’t recognize her at first, but they had a...body.”

Laelia clutched her hand to her chest, “Oh, the poor girl…she must have tried to run.”

“Run? You mean escape? And they killed her?”

“No. Most likely, they’ve brought her in to be punished. After that, it’s up to the gods what happens to her, but we’ll likely not see her again.”

“Why would they do that? Wouldn’t it be easier to simply let her go?” Sylana didn’t understand. Why go to all that trouble for one elf? Surely the guards had better things to do than chase down a harmless woman.

Laelia crouched beside her and took her hand. “It’s meant to teach the rest of us a lesson. If the Masters let one of us escape, others may become more bold and attempt it themselves. They also…” Laelia hesitated, before squeezing Sylana’s hand and meeting her eyes, “they feel the need to remind us that we are their property. That they control us, and as much as I hate to validate this act of savagery, I need you to learn from this, Sylana. I have protected you for too long. Now you must learn what they are truly capable of.”

“I understand, Mamai. I do,” Sylana brushed her fingers past the biggest scar on her cheek, “I have these to remind me.”

“No, da’len. The punishments you have received are minor. Mistress takes kindly to the young, so she does not allow them to be severely harmed. But this…”

Laelia stood and turned her back to Sylana. She unlaced the collar of her tunic and lifted it over her head, revealing her bare back. It was covered in many, many long white scars and a couple of what appeared to be burn marks in the form of liquid splashes. Acid.

One set of marks had not yet scarred, but were still scabbed and red, obviously much more recent than the rest. Perhaps a week old.

Sylana let out a choked gasp and forced her eyes shut. The day she had been late to curfew. No, no, no. She couldn’t bear the thought. Could those marks be her fault? Could she have caused her mother’s suffering with her thoughtless actions? She couldn’t bear to look, to imagine Mamai enduring the pain those marks must have caused her, possibly on her daughter’s behalf.

“This is what they do to you once you’ve grown,” Laelia finished as she redressed, “This is why you must obey.”

Sylana couldn’t answer. She couldn’t apologize or acknowledge that she understood or form any coherent words whatsoever. All she could do was curl in on herself and wail and sob while Laelia held her until she exhausted herself and sleep overcame her.

Sylana had thought her life was content. Perhaps she was wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

The next few days were difficult. Guards armed with small whips were now posted throughout the estate, the majority of them in the areas that slaves frequented the most. Any elf that was seen as even slightly out of line was given a warning lash and they all learned quickly to follow their orders precisely to the letter, even more so than normal. The kitchen, the bakehouses, even the dormitories were bathed in silence except for the sounds of work and the cries of those that were considered disobedient. 

Even in the dormitories, normally one of very few places that the elves felt any security, there were guards in each building that ensured that every slave was inside their assigned room by curfew, no exceptions. It seemed that they had a unique way of disciplining the few women that tried to refuse, judging by the screams and cries that could be heard through the walls during the first few nights. Sylana tied wadded up cloth to her ears in an effort to block the noises. It didn’t work too well.

Mamai assured her that the increased vigilance would pass, that it had happened before and every time the guards were eventually needed elsewhere and life returned to normal. “In the meantime,” she had said, “obey every order given to you, do not go anywhere you are not supposed to be, and avoid interaction with any elf beyond that which is required by your duties. Do not give them reason to punish you.” Sylana asked if all this torture was truly because of one elf’s attempted escape. She couldn’t believe it could be. One single elf? Laelia had just closed her eyes and held her tightly.

On the second day of this, Sylana saw Leto across the courtyard. They met eyes and she had to fight the urge to run to him, wanting desperately to cry in his arms like she had her mother’s, but she knew that they would both be punished for even the smallest interaction. Instead, keeping him in view through the boundaries of her vision, she gave him a quick shake of her head; a warning in case he didn’t understand the gravity of the situation. He gave a single nod in return and tilted his head in a silent question. 

_Is your mother alright?_

She responded with an assuring smile and a slight nod and turned away to return to her work. She’d risked enough with even that seconds-long silent conversation, though she ached for more. He seemed to be the only thing that could provide her with any positivity during this hell.

On the fifth day, they began the transfers. To break up any groups that may grow bold enough to plan an escape, Mamai had said. Sylana did not miss the fear in her eyes as she said this. It was a fear that reappeared when a man approached them during breakfast on day six.

“Is this child Cassia?” the man asked, looking at a paper pinned to the board in his hands. He sounded bored.

Laelia clasped Sylana’s hand and took a half step in front of her. “Yes, sir. She is my daughter. What is needed of her?”

The man grabbed Sylana’s free hand, pulled a brush from a pot on his belt, and painted a white ‘X’ on her wrist. “It is to report to the manor immediately. If it is not present when I arrive in twenty minutes, you will both be flogged,” he instructed, and left. He never looked up to see the tears already flowing from both women’s eyes.

Sylana stood in shock as Laelia embraced her, sobbing. The other women gathered in the hall were looking at them with sorrow in their eyes. A few that had helped raise her and that Sylana considered family approached.

One of them, Octavia, placed her hand on Laelia’s shoulder. “We don’t have much time, lethallan. She must leave,” she gently told the woman.

After a moment, Laelia nodded. She released her daughter and, taking both hands in hers, met her eyes with a solid gaze. 

“Listen carefully, Sylana. We are lucky. They are only sending you across the estate, so remember that this is not goodbye. We will still see each other, only less often. When you get there, look for Siona. She is a human, but she is also a slave and a long trusted ally of every elf here. Stay close to her as much as you can, she will care for you. And remember this — this is _important_ , da’len — tell every elf you meet, Siona as well, that your name is Sylana. Do not allow them to call you by your false name except when necessary. Do not lose your Elvhen, either. Use it whenever you can, to remind yourself. It is a beautiful tongue and I will not allow anybody to take it from you. Do you understand, Sylana, my child?”

Sylana nodded. She couldn’t speak. She felt so small, so trapped and small. She tried to tell herself that Mamai would only be a short walk away but the effort was rendered fruitless by the thought that she would no longer be greeted by a warm hug when returning home after a long day. She had rarely been to the manor. She knew nobody there.

She was terrified.

She took as much time as she could, only a few short minutes, to hug her adopted family before Laelia placed a hand on her shoulder. It was time to go. They walked together to the door of the dormitory building, as far as Mamai could take her.

“I will only be a few steps away. You should be able to visit without much trouble,” Laelia whispered. She places a hand on Sylana’s cheek. “I love you with all that my heart will allow, my child.”

“I love you, Mamai,” Sylana choked, and walked away from her entire world.

~~~

“This’s your room, darlin’. All the others are full so you get this one to yerself,” the woman called Siona said gently, in a heavy accent that certainly wasn’t that of a noble. She had been waiting for Sylana inside the dormitories; it seemed somebody had gotten word to her that a scared young elf was on her way. 

She was an elderly human woman with pale brown eyes filled with more kindness than Sylana had ever seen in a human. She had known Sylana’s Elvhen name when they met and had only dared to speak it once the man so interested in the paper pinned to the board had left, so the girl had cautiously decided to trust her. Even so, Sylana hadn’t spoken a word since leaving her mother’s side. She knew that if she so much as opened her mouth, she’d be unable to prevent the sobs from forcing their way up her throat. “I understand this might be a tinge lonely — especially for one just left her mum — so I’ll be sure to stop by as often as I can, a’right?”

Sylana only nodded once. She didn’t want to think about being alone in a room every night, but right now it was all she wanted. In truth, what she really wanted was Mamai but that being impossible for the moment, solitude was the next best thing. Evidently Siona understood, as she simply placed a hand on the elf’s shoulder, said “I’ll be by first thing in the morn to show you the manor,” and left the room.

She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to curl into a ball and will herself to wake from this nightmare. The last was the only one she felt capable of doing at the moment, so curl up she did and, despite the unpleasant thoughts running rampant through her head and the fact that there were still hours until sunset, she drifted off to sleep.

She was startled awake some time later by a knock on her door. It took her a moment to register that she had been sleeping, after which she cursed, ran her fingers roughly through her hair, and straightened her clothes before rushing to open the door. Rather than the kind brown eyes of the human she had expected, a pair of emerald eyes met hers with surprise. Seeing those eyes and the young elf that owned them made her happier than she had been in days.

“Cassia! So it was...er, I’m sorry if I woke you, may I come in?” Leto asked. At the cautious look that she must have flashed him, he added “Don’t worry, the guards stationed here have left and everybody is in bed.”

“Ye—yes, come in, then, quickly,” she ordered, letting him past and hastily shutting the door. She shook her head, “oh but Leto you really shouldn’t be here, I don’t want you in trouble on my behalf.”

Leto stood in the far corner, fiddling with a loose thread on his tunic, his head low. “I just...they said—I heard that there was a young girl transferred here. And you told me when we met...well, I assumed it might be you.” He raised his head and his large eyes, edged with sadness, met Sylana’s. “I’m sorry. That they separated you.”

As soon as their eyes met, it all hit her. The raw empathy in his eyes brought out every ounce of fear, sadness, loneliness, every little thing that she had felt but tried her best to repress that day. In a moment, her knees buckled beneath her and Leto moved across the room to catch her. 

“I miss her s-so much, Leto,” Sylana choked. “It’s not even been a day and it’s already unbearable.” Her body was taken over by chest-crushing sobs and she struggled to find the breath to form words. “I’m alone...I don’t know how to be alone, Leto.”

The boy helped her to her feet and led her to sit on the edge of her bed. “You are not alone, Cassia. The women here are kind. They will care for you,” he whispered, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder, “I will care for you.” At his words, some of Sylana’s pain ebbed. The pit of despair in her stomach remained, but the gesture and the heat of another body so close to hers was enough that her sobs faded into soft weeping. She brought her legs up onto the bed and hugged her knees, leaning slightly into the body beside her. Leto moved his hand to her back and began rubbing small, calming circled.

“Thank you...Leto, I...thank you.”

The two sat together for a time, silence broken only by her ragged breaths.

~~~

The small form leaning against his shoulder had drifted into sleep some time ago, it seemed. Still Leto rubbed the girl’s back slowly, softly. He had been feared overstepping his bounds and making the girl—practically a stranger, really—uncomfortable with too much physical contact. But then Cassia had leaned into him and he realized physical contact was exactly what she needed. 

After sitting with her for much too long, Leto’s own weighty eyelids finally convinced him it was time to leave. He slowly rose from the bed, laying the girl down and tucking a blanket around her. She looked so peaceful lying there and he sincerely hoped that she was having pleasant dreams of forests and freedom to soothe her troubled mind.

After listening at the door for a moment to ensure no guard presence—his ears were tuned to the sounds of shifting armor—Leto slid his way into the hall and began making his way to the barracks. He was quite accustomed to sneaking through these halls in the dark. When he had begun his guard training, he had been moved out of the quarters that he had shared with his mother and sister and into the guard barracks. He soon began sneaking out once a week to visit them. Leto suspected that his superiors knew of his after-hours journeys, but they too were slaves so they allowed it.

Perhaps it was because of his similar experience that, when learning that there was a new girl brought on to the cleaning crew, he had feared for Cassia and made the trip to verify. He remembered his own first night away from his mother all too clearly and had hoped that Cassia would not need to experience such a thing. At least he had been able to sit with her while she grieved. At least she had a friend in him. Hopefully she knew it.

Even before he felt concern for her, Leto found himself oddly drawn to the girl. Despite his hesitation to accept her offer, he _had_ looked forward to her ‘tour’ of the grounds. He, too, had never truly had anyone he called a friend, other than his sister. He preferred to play the lone wolf, never actively seeking the company of others.

Except now, of course.

Now he...enjoyed the company of another. He had even found himself longing for it, when he hadn’t been able to see her.

How strange.

Leto continued to stealth his way through the manor until he arrived at the barracks. Believing he was in the clear, he entered his room, and froze. Guard Commander Nero was waiting for him.

“Leto. Where have you been?”

Leto snapped to attention. “Sir! I was in the washroom, sir.”

“For an hour?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Hm.” A smirk tugged at the man’s mouth. “Sit, boy, you’re not in trouble.”

Confused, Leto sat on his bed and waited for a dressing down, regardless.

“You,” Nero folded his arms and leaned against the far wall, “have been offered an opportunity to participate in a...competition.”


	3. Chapter 3

Once again Sylana’s sleep was interrupted by a knock. Maker, she hoped this wouldn’t become a regular occurrence.

It was mid-morning, judging by the angle of the light filtering through her window. She hadn’t remembered falling asleep at all, much less how she had ended up in her bed with a blanket tucked around her. Leto’s work, she suspected. _Oh Maker, did I fall asleep on him? Actually, physically_ on _him?_ She cursed the flush that was rising up her cheeks and shook her head in an effort to clear it before turning to the door. “I’m coming!”

“G’mornin’ dear,” Sylana’s human companion from the day before greeted her.

“Good morning, ma’am. You’ve arrived a bit late it seems,” Sylana said with a small smile, gesturing to the window.

Siona smiled kindly. “Yes, well...we’ll just say I forgot I had a new charge, hmm?” She placed a gentle hand on Sylana’s shoulder, “I do hope you got a good rest, my girl. Come, I’ll show ye around the manor. Introduce ya to yer duties, eh?”

Sylana silently thanked the woman and shadowed her down the hall. “Yes, ma’am,” she said.

“Oh, hush with that ma’am business. I’m not yer master, I’m yer friend, got it? Call me Siona.”

Continuing through the manor, the woman showed her through the halls that would be her responsibility to keep clean, where to get supplies, and introduced her to the women she would be working alongside with.

Sylana got the impression that she would be working every day now, as opposed to her not-so schedule from before of “whenever she was needed.” She felt a tinge of sadness, knowing she likely wouldn’t have the same freedom with her time as before, either. Though, she supposed, she would also lack the freedom to roam as she had, her work keeping her confined within the manor. Perhaps keeping busy was good, if she no longer had the means to fill her free time. She wondered how easy, and how risky, it would be to sneak out of the manor at night. Perhaps the cleaners got breaks from time to time. Perhaps she would have time to visit Leto.

“Um...Siona…”

“Yes, m’dear?”

“I think...there may be a boy here? A friend of mine. His name is Leto. Dark skin, dark hair, green eyes, about this tall?” Sylana raised her hand to indicate his height and—my, he was tall, wasn’t he? Much taller than her and quite tall for an elf, certainly. She had no idea why this thought made her cheeks flush.

“Ah yes, charming boy! I work with his mum sometimes. Says he’s one of the guard trainees. Very proud of her boy, she is. I’ll see if I can introduce ya to her, hm?”

“Oh, yes m—Siona, that would be just fine, thank you,” Sylana said with a slight bow. A guard? She had no idea. He hadn’t told her his occupation, she realized, and she had assumed him to be a servant or a cook, perhaps, certainly not a guard. Mamai—and oh, the jolt of sorrow when she thought of Mamai—had told her how the guard worked long ago.

 _There are two groups of guards, da’len,_ Laelia had said. _One is comprised of free men employed by the Masters to keep the slaves in line. You should never, ever cross them. The other group, all slaves themselves, defend the masters and their properties, including us. These guards are more likely to be kind to you, but it’s best to keep your distance and treat them with respect._

Only the strongest, most loyal slaves, men and women alike, were chosen to guard the Masters. Sylana had looked up to them ever since she had learned of them; powerful warriors with swords and bows strapped to their backs, clad in armor and standing guard to defend them all. Secretly, she had hoped that one day she would be chosen to join them.

All that was a dream, of course, and for now Sylana had to settle for the work she was assigned.

She spent the coming weeks hopping from job to job. This new placement turned out not to be so different from her previous one, after all. Sylana got the sense that due to her lack of experience in any particular field, the older women simply didn’t know what to do with her. So, they passed her around and had her run odd jobs just like before—within the manor this time. After a time she started to settle into her new home (if it could be called that without her mother there) and though she spent more nights than not silently sobbing under her covers, most days she was unencumbered by the loneliness that had gripped her that first day and night.

Leto hadn’t come by since that night, but one day his mother showed up.

“Hello, Cassia? Are you Cassia?”

Sylana looked up from scrubbing a particularly tough stain on the floor—it appeared to be scorch marks—and met the woman’s eyes. As soon as she met them, before she even received an introduction, she had an inkling of who this woman might be—they were a glimmering green, so very like her son’s. Oddly enough, her bright red hair was decidedly _not_ like her son’s.

“Yes, ma’am, I am.” Sylana stood up and attempted to wipe what she assumed was soot from her trousers. This, of course, only served to drive the filth deeper into the fabric. She then made the further mistake of wiping her now dirtied hands on her tunic, effectively transferring the soot from her breeches to her tunic. “Kaffas…” she muttered, before her hand slapped to her mouth (covering that in soot as well). “I’m sorry. Forgive my rudeness, ma’am.”

The elven woman only chuckled at the spectacle before her gave Sylana a friendly smile. “No need to apologize, da’len. My name is Aurelia. I believe you have met my son?”

“Yes, ma’am. We met some weeks ago.” Sylana smiled and bowed her head. “I was happy to see an elf my age around. There aren’t many.”

“Indeed, I am pleased he has found a friend. He has had very few, apart from his sister.” Aurelia’s eyes took on a tearful sheen and she took Sylana’s hands in hers. “My son is happier than I have seen him in...years. I imagine his enjoyment of his training is responsible, but I don’t doubt that you played a part, Cassia.”

At this, Sylana suddenly found herself having to blink back tears. It was silly. Her and Leto had known one another for such a short time, had spent even less of that time together, but to know that she had made an impact on his life…

Aurelia gave Sylana a gentle pat on the shoulder. “Oh, I’ve gone and made you tear up as well, haven’t I,” she soothed, “well, we best both get back to our work. It was so nice to meet you, Cassia, I do hope we’ll meet again.”

~~~

Sylana had given up on the scorch marks for the day. She would inform the ladies in the morning just how stubborn they were and perhaps someone more experienced could take a crack at them. As she made her way back to her room for a much-needed sleep, Sylana allowed herself a moment to admire the beauty of the manor proper. It still amazed her just how...glamorous everything was. There were gilded sconces glistening yellow-gold and grand, vibrant tapestries depicting epic battles and jewel colored flowers lining the walls and everything around her was more lavish and beautiful than anything she had ever seen.

One tapestry in particular caught her eye. Unlike the others, this one only had one occupant (if one didn’t count the pile of bodies she was standing atop): a black-haired woman with gleaming blue eyes, dressed in the finest leathers Sylana had ever seen. She was holding aloft an intricately carved shortbow, mouth spread wide in a battle cry frozen in time. She was absolutely stunning and Sylana envied her to no end.

“My ancestor,” came a voice from behind her.

The sudden interruption of her thoughts made Sylana start, not only out of surprise, but fear. She knew that voice.

_Mistress._

Before thought caught up to instinct, Sylana dropped to her knees and assumed the lowest bow her body would allow.

“And my namesake, actually,” Hadriana continued, the slow _clack clack clack_ of her heels nearing Sylana’s bowed form. “The resemblance is remarkable, isn’t it? She was not magically inclined, sadly.”

The woman’s pause sent a wave of fear through Sylana’s body. Why was Mistress talking to a slave? Had Sylana done something wrong? Had she ventured beyond where she was permitted? Was she about to be punished? She waited for the pain of a fireball or a lightning bolt or even a heel pressing into her neck.

“Get up, girl.”

Sylana obeyed, standing with head bowed and hands clasped. Her heartbeat thumping in her ear.

“What is your name?” Hadriana asked her, and when the elf hesitated, added “You may speak. And meet my eyes.”

“C-Cassia, Mistress,” Sylana answered, meeting the woman’s chilled blue gaze. As cold as the eyes were, there was...no anger there.

“You are in my...service, are you, Cassia?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“How old are you?”

“Fifteen, Mistress.”

“Are you loyal to me, Cassia?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Would you kill for me, Cassia?”

Sylana hesitated a moment, not understanding the purpose of the question, but knowing what answer was expected. “Y-yes, Mistress.”

The Magister gave her a satisfied eye, flashed with a touch of amusement.

“Good. Carry on with your duties, slave.” And Hadriana continued on her way, brushing so close that Sylana could feel the crackle of her magic before she turned the corner and was gone.

~~~

For the rest of the day, Sylana couldn’t help but replay her interaction with the Mistress over and over again in her head. She thought perhaps one of the women stationed in this building could shed some light on the mystery. She had stopped one of them as they were all making their way to their respective rooms for the night and asked if Hadriana had ever stopped to talk to her.

“Maker, no,” she had replied, wide eyed, “Mistress _never_ talks to us. She barely acknowledges us at all.”

 _Then what in the Void made her talk to_ me _?_

Whatever the reason was, Sylana had the feeling it didn’t bode well for her.

The following morning, she had just decided she would attempt to seek out Siona and ask her when there was a knock at her door. _Just in time,_ she thought. But for the second time since she had arrived, it wasn’t Siona standing at her door. It wasn’t Leto, either. It was Paper-Pinned-to-Board Man, the very one who had taken him from Mother two days prior. Her heart leapt into her throat. Was she being returned?

“Cassia?” he asked, sounding as bored as before.

“Y-yes, sir.”

“You’re being transferred. You are to become Magister Hadriana’s personal lady's maid. Come with me.”

A couple of cleaners lingering nearby gasped and began to murmur amongst themselves. _Why am I being moved again? What is a lady's maid? Can I see my mother?,_ she wanted to ask, but simply followed the bored board man. He led her through the hall where she had encountered Hadriana and up an impossibly ornate staircase. Sylana feared to the gleaming balustrade for fear of tarnishing the perfect surface, so kept her hands clasped before her. They walked through a hallway lined with identical—though identically ornate—wooden doors, then another. Then a long hallway lined with grand windows overlooking a breathtaking garden, far more beautiful and rich than the one where she’d met Leto. Finally, after a maze of identical hallways that Sylana had no idea _how_ anyone could find their way through, they reached a unique door.

“Mistress Hadriana’s office,” the man explained, and knocked.

“Enter,” commanded a voice from within.

The room Sylana entered was enormous. An entire family could live within its walls, she thought. The window adorning the wall opposite her—dressed with deep blue that looked more comforting than any blanket Sylana had ever come across—almost encompassed the wall entirely, giving a breathtaking view of the city. In front of the window sat a vast desk, intricately carved from some kind of almost unnaturally red wood. At this desk sat, in a chair that appeared ridiculously soft, the very woman who had filled Sylana’s mind since the morning before.

Hadriana beckoned Sylana’s escort to leave with a lazy wave of her hand. He closed the door and Hadriana turned her attention to Sylana.

“Cassia, was it?”

“Y-yes, Mistress,” Sylana replied with as deep a standing bow as she couple manage without toppling. She clasped her hands in front of her, but reconsidered when she struggled to resist the urge to fidget. Sylana had no idea what this woman would do to her if she saw she was anxious. Better to keep them safely concealed behind her back.

“Tell me,” the woman steepled her fingers and regarded her with a sneer, “where did you get those hideous scars? Did you misbehave?”

Ah, there it was.

Tears pricked in Sylana’s eyes and she bowed slightly to hide them. She was used to these questions, but the word _hideous_...“I was a naive child, Mistress. I have learned better.”

“Hm, I should hope you have.” Hadriana stood and began to circle the elf like a predator teasing its prey. “Do you know what a lady's maid is, Cassia?” she purred, examining Sylana head to foot.

Sylana shook her head. “No, Mistress.”

“It is the girl tasked with aiding a Lady. Waking her, dressing her, fetching her breakfast. And I seem to have an opening for one.” She added with a dismissive wave, “an accident with my last girl involving a fireball.” Sylana filled in the rest.

Seemingly satisfied with her visual examination, Hadriana leaned against her desk and levelled an icy gaze on the girl.

“Would you like the job?”

Sylana wondered what would happen if she said no. Another accident with a fireball, no doubt. She repeated her previous bow and said “I would be honored, Mistress.” A lie, but she felt the platitude fitting.

Hadriana nodded and made her way back to the far side of her desk. She settled back into her almost obscenely plush chair. “ Good. Now leave me, Lucius waits outside to show you to your room.”

Sylana gave one final bow—though her Mistress had already shifted her attention back to the papers on her desk—and exited the room with even more questions than she’s had when she’d entered.


	4. Chapter 4

“This will be your room, slave.”

The room Paper-Pinned-to-Board-Man—Lucius—showed her to was not as grand as Hadriana’s office, but it was certainly in league with the rest of the manor. The room itself was twice, perhaps three times the size of the one she and Mamai had shared, and it had a  _ fireplace _ . Across from the fireplace was a simple yet lavish—and  large —bed. It was either exceptionally tall, or it had a real, proper mattress, and the thought of that alone made Sylana’s heart leap. The remainder of the room was filled with basic furnishings; a wardrobe, a dresser, a side table, a desk.

“On Mistress’s orders, you are free to come and go as you please, to walk the grounds as you please, to visit whom you please, so long as you are present to perform your daily functions. If you are not, or if Mistress decides she needs you at an unscheduled time and you are not available, you will be punished. You are not subject to curfew. You may have guests, so long as they are not ignoring their own duties and you accompany them at all times within the manor.” 

Lucius still sounded bored, but this time the boredom was joined by a sneer, as if he did not at all approve of the instructions he was giving. “You will be attended to and assisted by the maid staff. One will be by in the morning to show you your tasks. You may do as you wish until then. Wear this ring”—he dropped a small signet ring into her hand—”and the guards will recognize you and grant you passage.” And he left. 

Sylana stood motionless, stunned, as the door closed behind her. She couldn’t believe it. She had this gorgeous room all to herself. She got free reign of the estate. She could have  _ guests.  _ This seemed a vast improvement over her life as kitchen staff assistant and she couldn’t believe it was happening to her. The Maker was smiling upon her and she had no idea why, didn’t entirely  _ trust _ why. But she wasn’t about to question his ways, not when they actually  _ improved  _ her life. 

Placing the signet ring on the side table, Sylana hesitantly approached the luxurious bed and poked it. When the mattress beneath gave way, she pressed her hand into it. It was so,  _ so _ soft. Sylana gave a squeal of glee and launched herself onto the bed, arms spread wide. It was the softest, warmest surface she had ever laid upon and she wanted to burrow and take the most comfortable nap of her life.

But then something occurred to her. She wasn’t stuck here. She could leave. She could go see Mamai.

Sylana bolted off of the bed and out the door—returning for the signet ring that would grant her leave—and wandered the halls, looking for a guard. She found one at the end of the hallway; a young elf with black hair much like her own. For a heartbeat she thought he was Leto and her heart leaped, but fell again when she realized she didn’t know this man.

“Excu—”

Upon seeing her, the guard stamped his polearm on the ground and shouted, “Slave! You are not permitted to be in this area!” Stepping towards her, he ordered, “Return to your post or you will be detained and lashed.”

“I-I believe I am allowed, ser.” Sylana slipped the signet ring on her finger and held it out to the armored figure.

Upon seeing the sigil, the guard snapped to attention and offered her a salute. Sylana staggered back a step and felt a dash of warmth fill her cheeks. She had certainly not been expecting such a reception.

“My apologies, my lady. Is there something you need?” Sylana noticed the title and her blush deepened. The man’s voice was much more gentle now that he wasn’t giving commands.

“Yes, I was wondering if you could...could show me the way out of here. I would like to...visit someone.”

“Certainly, my lady. Please follow me.” 

The elf led her through hallway after identical hallway (this time Sylana tried to memorize the route) until they reached a nondescript exit. He beckoned to the door with his head, nodded a farewell, and left to return to his post. Sylana showed her ring to the man standing guard be the door and he let her pass without issue. When she was outside, Sylana had a much easier time finding her way around. It was quick work to orient herself and head towards the kitchens.

When she arrived, Sylana was informed that her mother was currently working—though all of the ladies that knew her had swarmed with embraces and teary-eyed greetings—so she settled in to Laelia’s room, the room Sylana had grown up in, and waited.

Some time later, the door opened. As soon as Laelia laid eyes on her daughter, her hands jumped to her mouth and tears spilled down her cheeks. Sylana launched herself into her mother’s arms and there they stayed, sobbing and embracing for...Sylana didn’t even know for how long. They had been apart less than a month but Maker, did it seem like ages. Finally they parted and Laelia held her daughter at arm’s length.

“My girl...my darling, beautiful girl…” she whispered, “Creators, I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here? Surely you aren’t allowed to leave the manor.”

“I am, actually. Well, I am now. I got transferred again. I’m Mistress Hadriana’s lady’s maid now, Mamai! She’s given me all kinds of freedom and a real room and a bed! A real bed, softer than anything!”

“Hadriana…? Oh…” Laelia walked to her bed—which could hardly be called a bed now that Sylana knew a  _ real _ bed—and sat, head and ears lowered in...sorrow? Thought? 

“Mamai? What’s wrong, I’ll be able to see you all the time now. This is good, isn’t it?” Sylana’s stomach dropped. Was something happening? Was Mamai being moved to another estate?

“Da’len, Hadriana is...she is not to be taken lightly. She can be exceptionally cruel if you cross her.” Laelia placed a gentle hand on Sylana’s arm. “Be extra careful, Sylana. Please.”

Relief flooded her. This was...not the best news, but Sylana had been expecting the worst. Still, she had learned through many, many punishments how to be on her absolute best behavior when she had to. This couldn’t be any harder than that. “I will, Mamai,” she promised.

The two spent the next hour sitting together as they had every night before Sylana’s move. Laelia sitting at the head of the bed, Sylana’s head in her lap, sharing memories and stories of their time apart and jokes that only they could understand.

~~~

Leto had had his usual struggle convincing his mother to let him walk the grounds that evening. Ever since he had been chosen to participate in this...contest, whatever it was (he still hadn’t been told), he had been given slightly more time to spend with his family. Still, he had been busy, and he hadn’t had a chance to check on Cassia in nearly a month. He had snuck out when he heard she’d been taken from her mother, but that wasn’t a risk he was keen on taking too often. He had simply been worried for her that night.

Leto was about to knock on the door that he knew was Cassia’s when a young elf boy spoke up.

“Excuse me ser, are you looking for Cassia?” Leto nodded. “She was moved this morning.

“Oh,” Leto blinked. “Where is her new room then?”

“No, no, she’s been transferred,” a spark of excitement entered the young boy’s eye as he continued “she was chosen to be Mistress Hadriana’s new lady’s maid! She’s super important!”

Hadriana. Clearly this child hadn’t heard the stories of Hadriana that Leto had. Even his mother had warned him of her. They said she was exceptionally cruel to the slaves. No, how had Cassia—she didn’t deserve that. She was a kind girl and if Hadriana laid one finger on her—”Where is her room now?” he snapped. The boy frightened at Leto’s intensity, and he felt a pang of regret and softened his tone. “Do you know where she is?”

“No, no ser, but I imagine she’s in the fancy part of the manor.” The boy’s eyes widened and he lowered his voice to a whisper as if telling a secret. “You can’t be thinking of visiting her! We’re not allowed up there ‘cept to clean.”

“We’ll see,” Leto replied, and he tousled the boy’s hair. “Thank you for telling me.” The boy turned away with a worried look, fixed his hair, and entered a nearby room.

Leto started back towards his family’s house—being chosen as a guard trainee those years ago had afforded his family the luxury of a small cottage—and tried to formulate a plan. He had to warn her, somehow. Obviously Cassia couldn’t do anything about her posting, but maybe she could avoid punishment. He had to let her know just how unrelenting Hadriana could be. Leto couldn’t think of any way that he could get into the manor proper without serious risk, but he could figure something out. Maybe write her a message and have one of the cleaners deliver it, but he had no idea if she could read. Not many slaves could. Mother had taught him and Varania as they grew, and he knew Cassia had a mother, so it was likely she had taught her as well. He would write her a note in some kind of code and then— 

As it turned out, he didn’t have to. When he opened the door to the cottage, there she was. Cassia was just sitting at their table, chatting with Varania.

“Oh, Leto, there you are.” Cassia gave Varania a pat on the hand and stood to address him, giving him a small smile made slightly crooked by her scars. “Seems like we’ve been looking for each other.”

~~~

It was still several hours before curfew—not that she had to obey it apparently, but Leto did—so when Leto had showed up, Sylana decided a walk around the gardens would be nice. She threw a quick farewell to Varania, whom she had had a wonderful talk with, and led Leto out the door by the wrist. He began to protest, “Cassia, what—” but she placed a finger across her lips.

“Shh! Let’s see if we can’t find our kitten friend, shall we?” 

“Cassia,  _ wait, _ ” Leto growled, freezing on the spot and bringing Sylana to a halt. Well, not so much a halt as a stumble backwards, stopped by Leto’s hand on her back. This time he grabbed  _ her  _ by the wrist and, looking around, led her behind a nearby building.

Behind a building.

Where nobody could see them.

A boy was taking her behind a building where nobody could see them and Maker, Sylana could feel her face turning bright red.

“H-hold on, Leto,” she sputtered, “I know I let you into my room, but you can’t—we’re  _ just friends _ , I’m not going to—to…” 

She wondered if it as it bad that a part of her wasn’t  _ exactly _ protesting.

Leto’s eyes widened as it appeared to dawn on him what Sylana was hinting at and stumbled backwards a step. “ _ Maker _ no, that’s not—I just wanted to talk without being overheard!”

“Oh.  _ Oh! _ ” Suddenly Sylana was overcome by a fit of giggles and she just managed to squeak out “Oh Leto, your  _ face! _ You look terrified!” between bouts of laughter.

“I don’t see how it’s very funny…” Leto muttered, turning his face from her (though not before Sylana spied a slight flush in his own cheeks and she  _ definitely _ saw his ears droop).

Sensing something in his voice beyond embarrassment, Sylana wiped a couple tears of laughter from her eyes and forced her composure, taking a step towards him. Now that she looked at him, he did look truly discomfited. It was enough to worry a line in her brow and she took another step closer, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Leto. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

After a moment of thought, Leto said flatly, “I...heard about your transfer. Your  _ new _ transfer.”

“Oh! Yes, that’s what I came to talk to you about, actually. It’s...a bit exciting, isn’t it?”

Leto shook his head. “No, you don’t understand.” He turned to her and grasped her by the shoulders, meeting her eyes with a gaze full of...worry? “Hadriana is not... I have heard stories. Terrible stories about her, about what she does to those that cross her, even to those she’s never met.” The boy let go of her shoulders and turned away.

“She is not to be trifled with, Cassia. I know you can do nothing about your posting, but I urge you to be careful.”

“I know, Leto. My mother warned me already.” Still...even though she had heard this warning before, she found herself grateful. Leto was worried about her. Well of course he was, he had risked Maker-knows-what to sneak out and check on her that night, hadn’t he? But something about the quality of his voice this time, the look in his eye...it had a sense of ‘If she hurts you I will stop at nothing to see her pay’ about it and Sylana couldn’t help her shock and  _ gratitude _ . That someone—someone she only barely knew—would carry this much concern for her…

“I will be careful, Leto. I promise I will.” She hesitated a moment before closing the distance between them and throwing her arms around him—briefly. “Thank you.” 

Before he had a chance to respond, Sylana had her hand around his wrist once again and was pulling him (once again) toward the gardens. “ _ Now  _ shall we go find our feline friend?” she teased over her shoulder.

Leto pulled his wrist free and quickened his step slightly to walk by her side.

“No need to drag, I’ll come willingly. Although...Cassia, how are you able to walk the grounds freely?”

“I was told that I can go wherever, as long as I do my job.” Showing him the signet ring, she added, ”this gets me past the guards. Free access, apparently.” She turned a smile at him. “I can see you—and mother—whenever I wish. Isn’t it fantastic?”

It wasn’t until they reached the gardens and Sylana crouched to search for Dru that Leto spoke up again, his voice pitched low.

“There had to be some reason to it…”

“Hm?”

“Ha— _ Mistress _ Hadriana wouldn’t let you roam out of the goodness of her heart. She has to have a reason. Not a nice one.”

Sylana shrugged. “Maybe she’s hoping that I’ll be late to my duties one day so she can punish me?” 

“Which I won’t be,” she added. “I told you I’d be careful.”

“I...yes, I suppose that could be it…”

Just then, a small orange flash darted from the bushes and up onto Sylana’s shoulder, making her very gracelessly fall backwards.

“Mak—!  _ Dru! _ ”

The kitten stood on Sylana’s chest and stared at her innocently with huge green eyes. She gave her a tiny  _ mew _ and nuzzled her cheek, inadvertently stepping on her windpipe as she did so. Sylana bolted upright and was overtaken by an involuntary fit of coughs.

“I think she’s happy to see you,” Leto chuckled. That he managed only a chuckle was commendable, Sylana could  _ see _ how hard he was trying not to laugh. He offered her his hand.

“Yes, well,” Sylana picked Dru up by her scruff and placed her on the ground next to her, taking Leto’s hand and rising, hopefully with more grace than the fall. “You cannot tackle people like that, little one. Oh, you’re not so little anymore, are you. Maker, cats grow fast.”

Dru gave another tiny  _ mew _ and rubbed against Sylana’s leg, possibly in apology, or perhaps in a request to be picked up. Sylana obliged to the latter.

“Do you have anything you need to do this evening?”

“No, nothing. Until curfew, of course.”

Sylana grinned. “Good, I want to show you something.”

~~~

There was a narrow alley behind the slaves’ quarters that led to a small courtyard. Inside its bounds lay an area as serene as a mountain clearing. It was the slaves’ best kept secret, partly because no one would dare tell the Masters about it and partly because only the slight frame of an elf could gain access. It was collectively referred to as Adahl’las -- ‘secret grove’ in ancient Elvhen. It was used by any elf that needed not be found; for secret meetings, for lovers’ rendezvous, or when one simply needed to get away.

“This has been here this entire time?” Leto asked.

“Mhm. For generations, apparently.”

“It’s...beautiful.”

“It is. I come here sometimes to think. Or just to...get away. Be alone, you know?”

“I may make use of it, now I know it’s here. The barracks are hardly quiet, much of the time.”

“What’s...it like? Being a guard? Well—guard trainee. A warrior,” Sylana asked. She imagined Leto wielding a blade, cleaving targets in half, drenched in sweat, arm muscles tensing in anticipation for the next swing. And then her conscious thought caught up to her imagination and she promptly stopped that thought before it could go further. Maker, she hoped he hadn’t noticed the hitch in her breath.

Fortunately, he was looking thoughtfully at the grass. “It’s…” he pondered for a moment, “fulfilling. To know that I can protect those important to me. Protect every elf, if it comes to it. I know it’s not strictly what I’m being trained for, but it comes along with it.”

There were no benches in Adahl’las, so Sylana sat in the soft grass and placed Dru down to explore. Evidently the kitten had never made it to this part of the grounds, as she rushed from one spot to another, sniffing the air and examining her surroundings.

“Well go on, Leto, have a seat. We have some time to talk.” Sylana shifted her eyes to the bounding kitten and muttered, just loud enough that Leto  _ could  _ hear but she secretly hoped he didn’t, “I’d like to talk. I’ve missed you.”

“I was talking to your sister. She’s such a sweet girl, she was telling me how much she admires her big brother.” Sylana thought she saw Leto blush at this and gave him a grin that was only slightly teasing, ears perked. “She is absolutely nothing like you, is she? Takes more after your mother?”

“Mm, very much so. We…” Leto gave Sylana a sideways glance. “Promise you won’t tell her this?” 

She nodded.

Sighing, Leto explained, “We have different fathers. She doesn’t know, she’s too young, but Mother told me years ago. She fell in love with another slave and had a child with him, that was Varania. My father…” Leto’s expression turned sour. “The man that I _spawned_ from was a Magister’s apprentice. I know she loves me regardless, but I was not a child created from love.”

Sylana laid back in the grass, pillowing her head with her arm.

“I never knew my father...never even knew who he was or what became of him. My mother won’t talk about him and every time I’ve asked...she gets this look. Like it hurts to remember, so I’ve given up. I don’t need him anyway, I’ve got her.”

“Leto, there’s...something I want to tell you. Can I trust you?”

“Of course.”

“My name...isn’t really Cassia. Well, i-it is, but...not my true name. It’s the one the Masters gave me when I was born.” Sylana took a deep breath and let it out in a huff. “My name is Sylana. The name my mother gave me and you must never speak it unless we’re alone, okay?”

“Okay,” Leto responded. She could hear the resolve in his voice and knew that he understood. That he would not betray her trust.


	5. Chapter 5

So far, Hadriana had been fair enough. Sylana made sure to be absolutely punctual when attending to her and she had not received so much as a verbal warning. Her Mistress was certainly not friendly, often treating Sylana as no more than an animal and consistently commenting on her facial scars, but that was tolerable. It hurt, but it was tolerable.

All in all, Sylana had settled into her new role quite well. Once a week, often after she had brought Hadriana breakfast and helped her dress for the day, Sylana would make time to visit her mother. It still wasn’t the same as seeing her every day as she had for the first fifteen years of her life, but it was worlds better than not being able to see her at all.

Sylana had even started to memorize what she could of Leto’s rather sporadic schedule (with some help from his mother, who she also visited at times) and made sure to be at his house when she was  _ pretty sure  _ he had the evening off. They would pick up Dru and wander the grounds, sometimes sitting together in Adahl’las, sometimes watching the stars on the battlements.

Tonight, it was the latter. The seasons were starting to change so despite the darkness, curfew was still a fair few hours away, and the absence of the moon meant the stars were shining brilliantly in an unimpeded ribbon of color across the sky. It was the perfect night.

Sylana and Leto were laid upon the cold stone of the estate walls, Dru curled up between them. Sylana was pointing out all the complex constellations that her mother had told her about as a child.

“See that group there?” Syana pointed to a patch of sky to the east. “The one that— _ I _ think—looks like a bird in flight?”

“Mm,” Leto said.

“That’s my favorite. It’s called Fenrir, the wolf. Mamai says it’s meant to be Fen’Harel but I like to think he’s just...a wolf. Running around a forest doing wolfy things, you know?”

“Mm,” he said again.

Sylana raised herself onto her elbow and cocked her head at him. “Are you falling asleep?” She adopted a tone of mock offense and scoffed, “I’m not that boring, am I?”

“What? No, no, sorry.” He sounded actually remorseful. Maybe her offense hadn’t been mock enough. She was about to let him know she was kidding when he muttered, “I was just...thinking.”

“Thinking? About what?”

“What if I could get you out of here? You and your mother.” He hadn’t looked at her. He was still staring into the sky straight above them, eyes unmoving.

“What? How?”

“I…” Leto looked at once so focused in thought, and yet so distracted by...something. “Just hypothetically. What would you do? Where would you go?”

“I’d like to see Starshine. The town with the fireballs?”

“No, I mean what would you do with your lives? Would you leave Tevinter?”   
  
“Oh…long term, you mean. I…” She thought of Livia. She had almost gotten out, but the price she paid...Is that what Leto meant? Was he planning something? Was he thinking of risking his life to let her and her mother escape? 

The image of Leto’s lifeless body flung over a saddle flashed through her mind and it almost made her sick.   
  
“I don’t think I’d want to leave,” she lied. Any plans he might have, she would not play along with. “I don’t mind it here, honestly.”

Finally, Leto moved. He turned to her, brow furrowed. “What?” he asked. “Well...what about those scars?”

Sylana sat up fully, feeling suddenly irritated. “What about my scars?”

“Just... _ they _ gave them to you, right?”

“Well they were hardly  _ given  _ to me, they weren’t a gift. But yes, they did cut me and burn me and lash me and that left scars.”

“I’m...sorry.”

“What? Sorry they make me so sodding ugly?”

“What? No, I meant—” Now he was sitting up, finally meeting her eyes. He flinched at her gaze. That gave Sylana a tinge of satisfaction. Of course that’s what he meant, it had to be. That’s what everyone she meets thinks and she thought he was different. Maybe he wasn’t.

“But they are, aren’t they? They’re ugly. They’re ugly and the only thing anyone can see on my sodding face and everyone asks about them and I’m  _ tired _ of it!”

“Sylana, I—” Leto reached out to touch her arm but she pulled away and stood.

“I should go. It’s late.”

And she walked away from him, trying desperately to ignore the lump growing in her throat and the tears prickling in her eyes.

~~~

“Venhedis,” Leto muttered under his breath. “Nice going, Leto, you fucked it.”

How in the Void could she want to stay? Everything they’d done to her and she was, what, comfortable here? Maybe she was just scared to leave. Scared she would be recaptured.   
  
_ You are to tell no one of this boon, nor of the contest that awards it. Not even your mother, and not the girl. _

One more battle. One more deathmatch. One more murdered soul weighing on his conscience and the prize was his. He hadn’t yet chosen who he would have released: his mother and sister, or the girl he…

Whoever he chose, he would never see again. But they would be free. Perhaps even happy.

She could be happy.

~~~

Sylana was alone but for her little four-legged friend. She had finished her duties until evening and was now lying in the soft grass of the secret Elvhen grove, deep in thought about her last interaction with Leto. 

After she had stormed away, after she had looked at her reflection for entirely too long and cried in her bed for even longer, she had realized she had never reacted that way to talk of her scars. All her life, she had simply...ignored them. She avoided her reflection whenever possible and sometimes she had even forgotten she had them, until she would absentmindedly touch her face and feel one of the jagged edges. Truthfully, it hadn’t been until Hadriana had reminded her of them, jabbed at them day after day that they truly started to bother her. They truly did make her face horrible to look at.

But that wasn’t Leto’s fault, and the first thing she had felt that morning was regret for reacting so harshly, and the fear that she had pushed him away.

She hadn’t seen him since she had left him alone on the battlements three days ago. She knew that in all probability he simply hadn’t been allowed out and was not actually avoiding her, but that didn’t stop her worrying. She had only known him for a short time but the idea of pushing him away scared her more than she would care to admit. 

She was currently staring intently at the sky, practicing aloud her apology.

“‘Hello Leto. I just wanted to apologize for’--no Syl, too formal…’Leto, please forgive m’--no! That reeks of desperation. Um…’Hi Leto. I’m sorry for how I reacted.’ I suppose...that works? Oh, you stupid girl!”

She rubbed a hand down her face and hopped onto her feet, careful not to crush the elfroot stalks surrounding her. Practicing was not helping. Perhaps she could convince the ladies in the bakehouse to sneak her a sweet bun to take her mind off things. 

“Now, now, da’len. It’s not nice to call yourself stupid,” a voice whispered from behind her, “that’s my job.”

Sylana barely avoided falling on her face, managing a graceless stumble instead. “Taci! You nearly scared the points from my ears!” She glared at the grinning woman.

Tacita was a cook and a friend of her mother’s. She had always been a bit irritating, but Sylana knew that it was a  _ loving _ irritation so she tolerated it.

“Oh, hush now,” Tacita said with a teasing smirk, “there was a boy asking after you, in the gardens. Black hair, terribly cute. I told him I would come find you.”

“Ah...yes, thank you, I will go find him”

She tried to hurry past Tacita before she had a chance to speak what, judging by the mischievous look on her face, was on her mind, but her plan quickly failed as she was subverted by the taller elf.

“Shall I let your mother know that her little one has a suitor?” Tacita teased, “He is a fine one. I certainly approve.”

“It’s not--he’s not my--don’t you dare tell mother!” Sylana could feel her face warming and looked away in a pointless attempt to hide her flush.

Tacita wrapped her in a bear hug. “Oh, alright. I’ll keep it quiet  _ if _ you tell me all about him later.”

Sylana managed to squirm free from the notoriously tight embrace, planted a kiss on her adopted sister’s cheek, and muttered a “yes, fine!” as she squoze through the grove’s small exit.

She found Leto waiting under a tree hidden away in the corner of the estate’s gardens. She was just out of view as she approached him so she paused, took a deep breath, and prepared herself to beg his forgiveness before rounding the corner.

“Leto. I’m so sorry about--” she began, but was cut off by a Leto holding up a dismissive hand.

“No.” He winced, evidently not pleased with the force behind the word, “I mean...you don’t need to apologize. You did nothing wrong, I was insensitive. I can...” he turned his gaze away and scratched his leg with the opposite foot, “be that way. Sometimes. So I apologize.”

Sylana was taken off guard. She thought she had been the one in the wrong, and certainly wasn’t expecting to receive an apology. She stood staring, speechless, longer than she probably should have and only snapped back to reality when Leto spoke her name.

“Sylana?”

“Yes! Sorry, I ah...don’t worry about it! It’s quite alright,” she smiled as warmly as she could manage in an effort to reassure him. It seemed to work, as she could see the tension leaving his muscles. Muscles...the ones in his arms were quite impressively large, for an elf. All that training with a heavy greatsword, she supposed. Once again she found herself staring for a second too long, but this time she caught herself before he noticed. 

“The woman that went to find you…” He paused as a request for a name.

“Tacita.”

“Tacita. She mentioned...you wanted to introduce me to your mother?”

“Oh fasta vass, Taci!” Sylana muttered to herself.

“I take it she wasn’t being completely truthful,” Leto chuckled.

“Not...exactly, no.”

“I see. Well...I wouldn’t mind meeting her anyway.”

“I’m not so sure that’s a good idea...” She looked away nervously.

Leto cocked his head to the side. “Why not?” he asked.

Sylana thought for a moment. It was a valid question that she actually had no answer to. She had nothing to hide. She had never really had any friends before, certainly none that she has taken a liking to so quickly and so strongly, so perhaps she thought her mother would overreact and thank him for befriending her poor lonely daughter. That would almost certainly scare him away, as well as humiliate her,, but it didn’t exactly seem like something her mother would do. So she decided to take a chance.

“Well, I suppose it couldn’t hurt. Come on, she should be home.”

~~~

It was a harmless idea in theory. Sylana introduced Leto to her mother and she was very welcoming. Suspiciously welcoming.

Then Laelia somehow convinced him that he must meet the entirety of the women’s dormitory; everyone that wasn’t currently working, anyhow. And while Sylana’s mother had been quite tame, these women were not. She had gathered them all into the small common area and many of them were now either fawning over Leto or letting him know precisely how wonderful their young Sylana was while she stood to the side repeatedly mouthing variations of the words “I’m sorry” in his direction.

Eventually she couldn’t bear to watch her friend get devoured any longer and tracked down her mother in the chaos. “You planned this.”

“Perhaps,” her mother grinned.

“Are you  _ trying  _ to scare away my only friend?” Sylana pouted up at her, arms folded in mock defiance.

“Certainly not, da’len. I just want to be sure he’s fit to be spending time with my precious daughter.”

Her mother pulled her into an exaggerated hug that gave the impression she was attempting to smother her daughter in her bosom. Sylana hated it when she did that, especially in front of people. The thought of Leto seeing the display did not please her, so she hoped he was preoccupied with the ever-chattering women surrounding him. 

She managed to break free after a moment of struggle. “Can you make them stop now?” she pleaded.

“Oh, but they’re having such fun.”

“Mother!”

“Oh, alright, if you must ruin my fun.” She clapped her hands. “Alright ladies, let’s leave the boy alone. It’s almost time for shift changes.”

The various women made their way back to their rooms, seemingly unhappy about their dismissal. Laelia placed a kiss on her daughter’s temple and walked off to prepare for her work shift, leaving Sylana and Leto alone.

“One of them told me she used to be an assassin and implied that she could kill me in my sleep,” Leto said. He seemed unfazed by the whole ordeal.

“Ah, that would be Octavia. Don’t worry, she’s harmless,” Sylana assured him. After a second thought she added, “well no, she has killed dozens of men. But I’m sure she wouldn’t hurt you.”

“Oh yes, that’s reassuring,” he said, his sarcasm softened by a warm smile. “I did enjoy meeting your mother, despite the trap she led me into. She’s very kind.”

Leto paused. He seemed to be battling himself over whether or not to speak his next thought.

“And very beautiful. You both are.”

Sylana’s heart stilled for a moment. Surely she had misheard him. No, he had misspoken. He had meant to call her...she wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t have truly meant to say “beautiful,” because she wasn’t. Her face was covered in scars from beatings she barely remembered. Who would find that in any way beautiful? 

It then occurred to her what had really happened and she was mortified. She looked Leto straight in the eyes, suddenly furious but unsure who deserved her anger.

“Who told you to say that?”

Leto recoiled at her bite. “What? Sylana, what are you—” 

“Who told you to say I’m beautiful?” Sylana felt herself tearing up but she was too angry and humiliated to care. “Was it Mamai?”

“Nobody told me to say anything, Sylana. Why would you think that?”

The tears were overflowing now and she couldn’t stop them if she wanted to.

“The only ones that have ever called me beautiful are the women that raised me and they had to say that, but they didn’t mean it! They couldn’t mean it, look at me! Look at these scars! I’m not beautiful, I’m ruined! Either somebody put you up to this to make me feel better, or this is some cruel joke, but I can’t believe you would do this, L—” 

She was so blinded by tears that she hadn’t noticed him move towards her. Suddenly, his arms were around her and she was breathing in his scent. He was so warm…

“You  _ are _ beautiful, Sylana. Scars or not, you are...the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. Nobody told me to say it and I promise I am not lying to you. Neither was anybody else who ever told you the same, I assure you.”

Beautiful.   


She was beautiful.

When he said it, she truly believed it. Believed that he  _ meant  _ it.

In one motion Sylana pulled away from Leto’s embrace, raised up on her toes, threw her arms around his neck, closed her eyes, and pressed her lips to his. She...had no idea what she was meant to do then. Leto did though; he parted his lips slightly to return her kiss in full, slowly working them against her own as his arm snaked down to her waist, the other cradling her head. Sylana cursed herself when she let out a tiny gasp—kissing was  _ much _ more fun than she had expected—only to feel Leto smile against her lips as he pulled her closer to him. After a time that felt somehow like a fraction of a second and a decade all at once, they parted.

Sylana’s heart was pounding. Whether from nerves or...something else, she could not tell.

She was still pressed to Leto, still had his arm around her waist. He brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes and murmured with an uncruel smirk, “Your first?”

Sylana’s eyes widened and she staggered backwards, falling into a perfectly-placed bench. “Maker, that was my first kiss!” she gasped. This elicited a chuckle from Leto, a chuckle from deep in his throat that bid her heart to beat even faster.

“I hope I was worthy of such an honor.”

She put a finger to her chin in mock contemplation. “Hmm...no, I think I want it back.”

“You wound me, Sylana,” he said, but she could see the affection in his eyes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: this chapter contains a scene depicting physical abuse. If that's something you're sensitive to, feel free to skip it. The scene is marked with a horizontal line and lasts until the end of the chapter.

Leto lay in his bunk with his face in a pillow.

He'd kissed her. Fasta, he'd  _ kissed her. _

It had been nearly a week but he, for the life of him, could not get that moment out of his mind. He had gone there to  _ apologize _ , and then he was meeting her  _ mother _ and seemingly everyone she’d ever met in her life and then the word  _ beautiful _ happened and all  _ that _ and then he realized that gods, she was beautiful, even when she was crying and gods, she was  _ crying  _ and he needed to fix that and he had meant to simply hold her but—

Well.

He hadn’t.

And now his life—his choice—was just a little bit more complicated.

Just then he felt a jolt; a kick to the wooden frame of his bunk, the now-familiar awakening that signaled it was time for his final battle.

~~~

Today was the first day that Sylana would see Leto since they had shared that delightful, wonderful, magical kiss. The one day of the week that he always had free and they always spent together. She was both excited—that perhaps there would be more kisses—and terrified—that he would tell her he regretted ever doing it. In fact, she had shown up to the garden a half hour early to avoid wearing a hole in her bedroom floor with her pacing back and forth, back and forth.

But this week, Leto didn’t show. He was normally there before her but when she arrived (of course, she didn’t expect he would be this time), but fifteen minutes after their scheduled time, he was nowhere to be seen. So she paced some more.

After another ten minutes, Sylana’s ears perked up at a rustling near the entrance and she jumped up to greet him...but sadly her visitor was considerably shorter.

“Oh, you silly cat...what are you doing here?” She picked up the cat and held her at arm's length. “I don’t suppose you know where he is.”

“Mrow.”

“I’m sure he’s just held up in training. I mean, he can’t just say ‘sorry to stop you, but I have to go meet my frie—’ no, hold on...we kissed. We’re not just friends anymore. Are we? Do friends kiss?”

“Mrow.”

“What are we, then? Lovers? No, lovers are...well, they… _ aaaAAHH _ !” She buried her face in a blanket of orange fur and mumbled “ _ venhedis _ , Dru, where  _ is he? _ ”

So she kept waiting. Half an hour passed and Sylana thought to go out, to look for him. But if he showed up…

She laid in the grass. Ten more minutes she would wait, then she would go find his mother. She would know where her son was, right?

Sylana squoze her eyes shut to ease the headache that was creeping behind them. Left them closed, just for a moment. Just a moment and--razor sharp claws were digging into her arm.

“Ow!  _ Dru _ , what ar—”

It was dark.

When did it get dark?

“ _ Venhedis! _ ”

Not a moment. Hours.

~~~

Every battle in the contest so far had some sort of gimmick, a twist to make each one challenging and weed out the true warriors. An obstacle course, a hail of arrows, wild animals. But from what Leto could tell when he arrived at the grounds, this final battle was...just a battle. Basic leather armor, choice of weapon, open battlefield. No tricks. Leto took this to mean that the battle itself, his opponent—whoever that was—would be enough of a challenge.

As he had every time before this, Leto chose the two handed greatsword. He liked the weight of it, the momentum that could be created with every swing, if one knew how. Many found the sight of a thin teenage elf brandishing a sword almost as large as himself to be comical—until he started swinging. Because, though he didn’t look it, Leto had always been physically stronger and more able than his peers. Small but mighty, his mother liked to say.

Deafening cheers surrounded Leto as he exited his ready tent. Hundreds of humans aglee to watch the mutual slaughter of beings they saw as mere animals, playthings putting on a performance for their masters’ amusement; not thinking, feeling individuals with friends and families that would never get to say goodbye to whoever fell today. It made Leto sick. Made him wish he could turn this elf-sized sword against every human in those stands and cut down each one of them.

Ironically, it also fueled his desire to win.

Only moments after it had begun to die down, the noise erupted again as another elf joined the battlefield. Leto snapped his attention to quickly gather as much information on his opponent as he could as they walked towards the center of the arena.

Older man. Battle scarred. Heavier build. Similar armor. Wielding a round wooden shield and short glaive.  _ Could be a problem if I leave myself open _ , he thought.  _ Keep my distance and keep moving. I need to get rid of that glaive. _

“Combatants! Ready your arms! This is a fight to the death! Any show of mercy will be punished! And…….BEGIN!”

With a sneer, his opponent bellowed “You’re gonna die, kid!!” and charged him. Leto deftly spun out of the way and swung to hit his exposed calf as he passed—just missing. The man turned once again to face him and started advancing, slowly this time. 

Swing, block. Stab, block. Swipe, block. As much as he could, Leto forced his opponent to block with the shaft of his polearm, rather than his shield. He could feel the wood splintering bit by bit with every blow. Eventually, the shaft gave out and the blade hung limp from a single splinter. 

The weapon was thrown to the side and it was shield versus sword. Perfect. 

“You’ve lost your weapon!” Leto jeered.

“Ha! You think a shield isn’t a weapon, boy?” But he could hear the man’s voice falter. He wasn’t so confident now. Blow after blow after blow to the shield, Leto’s youthful stamina was winning out.

But he made a mistake. Took too long to ready what he thought would be a killing blow and left an opening. He took a shield full force to the chest. Broken ribs, but he could still breathe. Winded, but no punctured lung. But he could see the force required for that blow had his opponent out of breath as well. Leto charged him but faked out, one swipe to the leg and he was down. 

A smirk. “Watch your surroundings, kid.” 

The discarded blade of the glaive was in his opponent’s hand. Then embedded in Leto’s side. A gap in his armor. Kaffas. He should have been watching that. 

As Leto fell, he used all his waning strength to twist and maneuver his sword beneath him. The weight of his body drove the blade into the man; where, he could not tell but he hoped, he hoped it was a killing blow.

No no he couldn’t die he had to go back to her no he couldn’t let their first kiss be their last no.  _ No. _

He tried to hold on. He tried to focus on the cheers echoing around him. But they were fading. Muffling. Quieting as they were overtaken by the deafening sound of the beat of his heart as it tried in vain to replace the blood that was pouring out of him. 

Eventually that sound faded too.

_ Syl… _

~~~

“No no no no no I’m late, I can’t be late.”

Sylana launched herself to her feet and squoze through the narrow passage as fast as she could. Arriving at the other side, she took off at a sprint for the manor. When she reached the side entrance that she normally used, one more guard than usual was standing by the door. She recognized him. Caius, the young black-haired guard that had shown her to this very door. She could see his expression shift as he saw her round the corner, turning from vigilance to...remorse?

“Miss. Come with me, please.”

Into the building he led her, through the elegant halls and up the intricate stairs. But...well, they were headed for Hadriana’s office, but the guard was taking her the long way. Through the dark, discreet halls that only the servants used.

“Listen to me, lethallan.” The guard spoke quietly, almost too quietly to hear. He had not stopped or turned to face her, but had slowed his pace a fraction. “She is angry, but she will not kill you unless you anger her further. Be as obedient as you possibly can, do not meet her eye, and you’ll be fine. There will be pain, but you’ll be fine.”

The guard resumed his normal pace, giving no indication that any words had been spoken. His words filled her with terror and she wanted to plead with him,  _ don’t make me go in there, please take me away from here, open the front gates and let me run.  _ But she said nothing as Caius led her back through the main halls until they reached Hadriana’s office. 

Sylana thought she heard a barely perceptible “good luck” before he knocked on the door.

* * *

“Enter!”

As soon as the door was closed behind her, Sylana dropped into the lowest bow she could muster. She sent out a silent prayer to the Maker, to Andraste, to the Creators, even to the Old Gods that the guard had been right.

“Stand up!”

Sylana obeyed and barely saw the open hand before it struck her cheek and filled her face with blinding, searing pain. A haze of white pain and black vision and she was sprawled against a cabinet, broken glass and liquor surrounding her. The smell of burnt hair filled the room.

“Stand up!”

Sylana started to rise. She had to ignore the pain that filled her body, she had to or she would be disobedient.

But she couldn’t, her knees buckled beneath her and returned her to the bed of broken glass and stinging liquid. 

“ _ Stand! Up!! _ ”

She tried again to stand, and this time her legs failed to even twitch in response. Sylana dared not look up at her Master, fearing that one look into the eyes she imagined to be as filled with fury as the voice would immediately end her. But when a hand took hold of her long hair and lifted her off the ground, Sylana had no choice but to meet those eyes. Those blazing blue eyes, filled with ice and fire all at once as tears and panic filled her own.

“Oh I am so glad our pretty little elf didn’t send you away,” Hadriana hissed.

Sylana knew, she  _ knew _ that the guard had been wrong and she was about to die. Her young life would be cut short because she fell asleep in a secret garden waiting for her best friend and first love. She wanted to fight but part of her thought it pointless and part thought it would only expedite her demise.

So she just stared into those cold-hot eyes and pleaded to all the gods she could think of and—

The hand dropped her.

“Guard!”—the young guard opened the door and stood to attention—”Take it to its room. Fetch a healer. Heal any injuries that will interfere with work and leave the rest to scar. And fetch someone to clea...”

Those final words were lost to waning consciousness. Sylana felt plated arms lift her body—and then all went black.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Minor content warning: This chapter depicts a panic attack so if that's something you're sensitive to, feel free to skip.

“Is he alive?”

“Barely, Sire.”

“Can he be healed? Without lasting damage?”

“Fully functional? Yes. Without a scar? We’ll try, Sire, but it’s doubtful.”

“Mm. Shame. I would have preferred him...pristine.”  
  
 _Sylana…_

~~~

“Wake up, kid.”

Hm. He knew that voice.

“Come on, I know you’re in there.”

Nero. His commander. He liked his commander. 

“Aha, there you are. Welcome back.”

Leto’s eyes fluttered open. Yes, there he saw Commander Nero, sitting next to...his bed? A bed. Not his.

“You’re in the infirmary,” he explained, reading the confusion on Leto’s face. “You’ve been out cold the whole damn day, it’s nearly midnight.“

“What…” _happened?_ Oh. only one of those words was out loud.

“Ah, here.” Nero poured a glass of water and handed it to Leto. “You won the contest, kid,” he grinned. “Almost lost your life in the process, but you made it. They got you healed up all nice and new.” 

He patted Leto in the exact spot that he remembered seeing a blade sinking into his flesh on that bloody battlefield. Leto gasped in anticipation of pain—but there was none.

“That shouldn’t be hurting you anymore,” a voice said from the doorway. “I healed it myself and we need you all shiny and perfect for your new Master.”

Leto didn’t know the voice, but he recognized the woman. Hadriana, Danarius’s primary lackey and the woman that Sylana now served.  
  
 _Sylana._

“No, Ma’am,” Leto muttered. “No, it’s not. Just shock.”

“Was a nasty wound, wasn’t it? Any other healer and you would be dead now, I have no doubt.” The woman sneered, a hideous grin that looked all too welcome on her cruel features. “But here you remain, so I believe we have business to attend to. You were given a choice. Who shall it be?”

“My mother.” 

Leto was surprised by his own answer. Why had he chosen them? Of course he wanted them to be free, but did he truly _choose_ them? Or did he just want to keep Sylana?

“Your mother and sister, I presume. Good choice,” Hadriana sneered again, but this time with a glint of added amusement. “They will be given full immunity and escorted off the grounds first thing tomorrow morning,” and she exited the room without another word.

“I don’t know what they’re doing with you next,” Nero chimed. He had been at silent attention from the moment Hadriana stepped in to the moment she was out of sight. “They wanted to take you to the manor tonight but I convinced them you needed time to heal.” He tilted his head in mock nonchalance. “But...I dunno, you look all healed up to me. Maybe there’s something else you wanted to do with your time. Me, I think I’ll spend my nightly watch at the other side of the training hall, make sure no scoundrels can slip past me, way over there.” He gave Leto a wink and left him alone.

Leto slowly sat up and sat at the edge of the bed. He was stiff and sore throughout most of his body, everywhere except the location of a former hole in his side. Slowly, he stood up and stretched each limb, then his abdomen. Not even a pinch. 

How in the Void was he going to explain to his mother that she was leaving the manor, leaving slavery? And that he wasn’t coming with? Perhaps he simply...wouldn’t.

Every night he had spent with his family since this cruel contest started, he had treated as if it would be his last. It very well could have been, with each battle being fought to the death. He hadn’t even known if he would get a _chance_ to say goodbye, were he to win. Now he did have that chance and he couldn’t help wondering if it would be less painful if he didn’t take it.

Besides, now more than ever, he had to see Sylana.

~~~

When Leto arrived outside what he was _pretty sure_ was Sylana’s window (but a floor below), he was pleased to see a well-placed trellis leading exactly where he meant to go. That would certainly make his climb easier. After a couple testing tugs to ensure it would hold his weight, he began to scale the wooden frame. This was made slightly difficult by his still-stiff muscles, but fortunately there was no pain so he powered through.

He’d made up his mind. He was never going to see his mother again so it was best that he just let her go. Perhaps she would resent him for it, but perhaps that would make it easier for her to forget him. Varania would surely forget him, as she grew. Both of them would put their slave life behind them, and be better for it. Better for forgetting him.

But Sylana, he could see again. Sylana didn’t need to forget him. 

Somehow, he had come to the conclusion that scaling the wall to her window would be safer than sneaking through the manor. Both were incredibly risky, but he had to see her. He had to.

And he had to apologize, of course. She would no doubt be worried after he hadn’t shown up that afternoon. 

Reaching the top, Leto saw through the uncovered window that Sylana lay motionless on her back. He would have to wake her, then. Hopefully without her thinking there was a murderer outside her room. First he tested the window—locked—before tapping a feather-light knuckle on the glass in an attempt to avoid startling her awake.

It didn’t work, exactly, and Leto saw Sylana’s shadowed form bolt upright and scramble backwards until she almost fell off the bed. She must have registered who had knocked then because, after wrestling with the covers for a moment, she rushed to open the window. Folding his agile frame inside, Leto’s intention to let out a teasing jab was halted when he saw Sylana’s face.

The left side was covered almost entirely in bandages, extending down her neck and shoulder, parts of them soaked through with dried blood. Dark purple bruises were peeking out from underneath them. On the same side, her long black hair—normally flowing sleek down her back—was left hanging in jagged locks that barely reached her shoulder.

In an instant, he knew. Knew exactly what had happened.

Leto pressed gentle fingertips to her cheek. “Sylana…” he whispered.

At his touch, her eyes grew wide and he drew back for fear he’d hurt her. Leto watched as Sylana slowly brought a shaking hand—also bandaged, he noted—to where his had been and let out a sob when her fingers found the soaked-through cloth. Tears and terror filled her eyes, her ears clamped to the sides of her head and she turned away from him, her body beginning to shake as her breath quickened, faster and faster until he could hear her gasping for air. He rushed to her side and wrapped a supportive arm around her waist to lead her on shaking legs to sit on the bed. He could feel the deep tremors wracking her body, her small body that sat curled into a tight ball, impossibly stiff, every muscle tensed.

Maker, what was happening to her? Had Hadriana put some spell on her? Searing anger rose in him at the thought of that witch, no doubt sleeping peacefully despite her atrocities.

Anger was overtaken by helplessness as Sylana sat and shook and gasped for breath. All he could do was hold her and pray for this to pass. 

“It’s alright,...Sylana, you’re alright…” he whispered. “You’re okay...I’m here...you’re okay…”

Some time later, what felt like ages, her breathing began to slow and the shaking ceased. All at once, her body relaxed and she fell limp against Leto’s side. He could still hear the labored breath of silent sobs, but whatever had overcome her before seemed to have eased.

Just when he thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep, she spoke up in a barely audible whisper, head hung low.

“I’m sorry…”

“For what?”

“That...that happens...sometimes, when...I-I didn’t mean to scare you…I’m sorry…”

Leto blinked. “Why are you...Sylana, you don’t need to apologize.”

“Sorry…”

“No. No, _I’m_ sorry. This is...you were late, weren’t you? Because you were waiting for me.” _You were tortured because of me._

“Yes, but it wasn’t—I fell asleep. I was an idiot and I fell asleep and it was my fau—” 

“No.” Leto twisted his body to face her and took her chin in his hand, easing it up so he could meet her eyes. Tears spilled and he wiped them away as they came. “None of this is your fault. You did nothing to deserve this, Sylana. Hadriana is a monster and you _did not_ deserve this.”

Sylana half collapsed, half threw herself into him so suddenly that he couldn’t brace himself and they both toppled onto the bed (Maker, it was a soft bed). Like that first night he’d stayed with her in her tiny room downstairs, they laid together in silence but for her sobs as Leto ran a gentle hand up and down her back.

“I waited for you…I was worried…” she sobbed.

“I know, I promise I would have come if I’d had a choice.” He had come here for a reason. He had to tell her or she would worry the next time he didn’t show up to meet her. Leto reminded himself that as much as it felt like it, this was not goodbye. He would find a way to come see her. He would not allow this to be taken from him, would not allow her to be alone. “Sylana, I...I have to tell you something. I was ordered to tell no one or they would…” he shook his head, “you can’t tell anyone, okay?” She blinked, confused, but nodded.

“Tomorrow I’m becoming Danarius’s personal bodyguard.” 

Sylana let out a gasp and recoiled from him.

“ _Danarius?_ But why--how did this happen? Why you? Not that you’re not...capable, but gods, why _you_?”

“There was a contest, a sort of combat tournament. I...won.”  
  
Sylana took off across the room as if she didn’t know what to do with her body. He watched her try pacing, then running her hands through her hair, clutching at her clothing, then finally she stopped. She turned away from him, head hung in defeat.   
  
“And we can’t do this anymore...can we…that’s why you’re telling me this…it’s over…”

Leto’s jaw clenched and it took all his will to fight back the lump in his throat and the tears accompanying it. In three strides he crossed the room, turned her to face him, and held her tight. “No,” he said, in as confident a voice as he could muster. “I will do everything I can to see you, Sylana. As often as I can.”

“You promise?” she whispered.

He placed a hand on her head and a kiss to her hair. “I promise.”

There was one part that he would not tell her. He would not tell her that he could have had her freed. That he’d been made to choose between Sylana and her mother, and his own family. That he had chosen the latter because he could not bear the thought of never seeing this girl again. 

But now, seeing what Hadriana had done to her, Leto would have done anything now to take back that choice.

Sylana shifted against him, retreated into herself slightly. “Will you…” she squeaked. Barely audible.

“Hmm?”

“Will you stay with me tonight...?”

“Of course.”


	8. Chapter 8

Sylana’s hand was vibrating.

No, it was...touching something vibrating?

Vibrating and warm. And furry.

Sylana opened her eyes and blinked away the sunlight streaming in through her open window. Sitting up, she heard rustling behind her, followed by a tiny yawn.

“Mrow.”

“Dru? How did—” A searing pain shot up Sylana’s neck as she turned her head. “ _Venhedis!_ ” she gasped.

She groaned and placed her head gingerly back on her pillow, as Dru wandered over and nuzzled a cheek against her arm.

“Hello, Dru...Did you open the window? I could’ve sworn I’d locked it…”

As she stood up to close the window, she spotted something on her nightstand. A piece of paper. “Oh! Leto…”

Sylana unfolded the note.

> _Syl_
> 
> _Had to leave early this morning. Didn’t want to wake you. I don’t know when I’ll be able to see you again but I’ll try soon_ —there was a heavy drop of ink here as if he’d paused— _and_ _I’ll be thinking of you every day._
> 
> _Leto_
> 
> Then hastily scribbled at the bottom:
> 
> _Sorry for the window. Couldn’t close it from outside._

Sylana giggled at the thought of him perched on the ledge outside, cursing as he tried and failed to close the window behind him.

“I’ll be thinking of you too, Leto,” she whispered.

Then her heart sank as she remembered what he had told her. No more weekly dates in the secret garden. Perhaps no more dates at all. Perhaps that was the last she would see of him...but no, he’d said that he would find a way, and he would. She was sure of it.

After closing the window, Sylana was very careful about avoiding her mirror as she prepared for the day. She simply wasn’t ready to see her new inevitable scars. She hadn’t even known there was damage, hadn’t remembered what had happened at all, until she saw the pain on Leto’s face as he touched hers.

Then the panic had started and she was sure that he would turn tail and run at that, but...he didn’t. This was the second time that he’d just _sat_ with her while she wept. Nobody had ever done that for her but Mamai, let alone sat with her through a panic. 

She had to thank him, somehow. Maybe it would be strange to just outright say ‘Leto, thank you for being nice to me!’ but she could think of— 

_Knock knock._

Sylana’s insides jumped. But no, that wouldn’t be Hadriana, of course not. A servant girl, maybe.

_Knock knock._ “Dear? Are you awake?”

Sylana glanced around for Dru—already hidden somewhere— before answering, “Ah-yes, come in.”

The door opened and a familiar face entered. “Hello, m’dear.”

“Siona!”

A welcome sight after the shithole of a day Sylana had just had. She practically jumped into the woman’s arms as soon as the door was shut. “Siona, I’ve missed you,” she said. “But, what are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to care for yer wounds, 

“Oh, o-of course. Should I sit?”

“Yes, Miss. On the bed, please.”

Sylana settled onto the bed with Siona to her left. As she began to remove the bandages, she pitched her voice low. “Poor dear…’m sorry, there isn’t much I can do without magic, but I’ll do what I can to minimize scarrin. Keep it our little secret, hm?”

Sylana swallowed past the lump forming in her throat. “Thank you,” she whispered, “thank you…”

When Siona had finished dressing her wounds, she collected her things and stood to leave, but hesitated. 

“While I'm here...I can fix up yer hair if ya like.”

Sylana’s hand moved to the singed hair on her wounded side. She couldn't see what it looked like, but she could feel the absence of the strands that normally fell over her shoulder. She held up the undamaged portion and stared at it, lost in the glossy blackness for perhaps a bit too long.

Finally, she took a deep breath and dropped her hands. “Yes...yes, thank you.”

Siona retrieved the shears she used to cut bandages and got to work. “Just enough to even it out, I promise.”

They sat in silence, but for the _shk. shk. shk._ of the shears. 

Sylana stared at her bandaged hands. She had believed...just months ago, she had believed that this life, living as a slave, was perfectly acceptable. Despite the beatings, despite the captivity, despite the sparse living quarters, she had been...perfectly happy with her lot in life. Even after Sylana’s separation from her mother, she still had Leto and the freedom to roam and she was even _happy_ . Of course, it couldn't last. Of course he would be taken from her and _this_ would happen and she wouldn't be surprised if she was to be confined to the manor now, as well.

Perhaps...perhaps she could gather her mother and Leto and his family and they could all escape together. Leto could fight, and she could learn, and if they went as a group…

No. No, that was a ridiculous idea. 

…perhaps an uprising…

“Alright,” Siona chimed, snapping Sylana out of her idiotic plans. “Would ya like to look, make sure I did a decent job?”

“No!” Oh. She didn't mean to yell, she just...she wasn't ready to look. Not yet. “Sorry...no. I'm sure it's fine.”

“Well pers’nally, I think it suits ya. You look beautiful, indeed.” Siona gave her a small but genuine smile. Hearing these words, seeing that glimmer of kindness, Sylana was overwhelmed with emotion. Pain, rage, sorrow, but most of all, at this moment at least, gratitude. She pressed herself once more into Siona’s arms.

“Thank you so much, Siona,” she muttered against her shoulder and Siona simply patted the girl’s back.

“I'll see you again tonight to change the dressin, alright?” In a whisper, she added, “I’m stopping by the bakehouses later, I'll see if I can't sneak ya a sticky bun or two, hmm?”

Against all else, Sylana felt a bit of a smile form.

~~

Sylana paused—froze—in front of the door to Hadriana’s room. It wasn’t until after Siona left that she had realized that, regardless of how she felt, she would have to face and _serve_ the woman that had almost killed her the day before. The time that she had until she was to deliver breakfast had been spent trying to stave off a panic. That was successful, with the help of Dru, but not without many, many tears.

And now here she was, about to enter the room of an evil woman, serve her breakfast, and pretend nothing was wrong.

She did what she could to steel her resolve, took a deep breath, and _knock knock._

“Enter,” came a drowsy voice. She entered.

“Good morning, Mistress,” Sylana greeted.

“Well, look at you.” Hadriana sat with her legs over the side of her ridiculously opulent bed. “Isn’t that _ugly_.”

_Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry._ “Yes, Ma’am. Here is your breakfast, Ma’am.”

“Oh, that can wait. Let me have a look at you.”

Hadriana paced across the room and suddenly Sylana’s chin was in her hands, jerked upwards. She did her best to avoid making contact with frigid blue eyes. _Don’t look scared. Don’t look weak._

“I did quite a number on you. I couldn’t help _adding to your collection_.” A manic grin took over her face as she said those last words slowly, deliberately. This was a game to her. “Really, what does that little boy see in such an ugly little girl? That Leto of yours. Of course he’s not yours anymore, is he?”

A knock at the door interrupted the terrifying moment, just as Sylana was questioning whether she would leave this room alive—and what Leto had to do with any of this.  
  
“What is it!”

“Madam, I was asked to remind you of your meeting this morning. It is in three quarters of an hour.”

Sylana thought she recognized the voice coming through the door. The guard that was at the door yesterday. He was keen on watching over Sylana, perhaps he had known she was at Hadriana’s mercy once again and thought to cut it short. _Thank you_ , she thought, _thank you so much._

“Yes, yes, I don’t need reminding,” Hadriana barked. She dropped Sylana’s chin and stalked to her small dining table. “Bring me my breakfast, girl. You’re letting it get cold.”

“Yes. Yes, Ma’am.” 

~~

“Oh...oh da’len, my dear sweet child…”

This was how Mamai reacted every time Sylana had come home with a new wound, usually followed by Sylana sobbing in her lap as they rocked back and forth until Sylana fell asleep. Laelia would always opt to sleep on the floor on these nights so her daughter could have the entirety of their meager bed.

“Did that bitch do this to you?”

Sylana surprised herself when instead of tears, laughter burst from her. _“Mamai!”_ she gasped.

“Sylana, what is so funny?”

“I’ve never heard you talk like that!”  
  
“Well, it’s true! She hurt my baby and that is unforgivable.” Laelia touched gentle fingertips to Sylana’s wounded cheek. “I don’t understand. She’s a horrid woman, but she’s generally kinder to...well, at least _less horrid_ to the young ones. What makes you any different?”

Just then Sylana remembered what Hadriana had said that morning. _That Leto of yours._ “Leto…” she muttered.

“What? That boy? Gods, was _he_ the one that hurt you?” Laelia sounded somehow more livid now.

“Wha—no, no, it was her. But she...said something about him this morning when she was...when I brought her breakfast. I think maybe she’s met him? I don’t know.”

_He’s not yours anymore._

“Well nevermind,” Laelia said tersely. “You nevermind that. It’s warm meal night and that’s exactly what you need right now, da’len.” She engulfed her daughter in a bear hug, then linked Sylana’s arm through hers and led her out of the room. “Never forget how much I love you, my child.”

“I won’t, Mamai. I promise.”

Maker, she needed a warm meal.

~~~

The next day, after gorging herself on warm porridge and spending the night sleeping soundly in her mother’s embrace, and after attending to Hadriana, Sylana was making her way to the tiny cottage where Leto’s family lived, Dru at her heels.

Rather, she was weaving her way around and between her feet as she walked. “Dru if you keep that up, I’m going to step on you and you’re not allowed to blame me for it.” 

Leto hadn’t told her exactly what his new “assignment” entailed and that left her more than a little bit worried. She thought his mother might know more about it, and maybe Leto would be there visiting too. Sylana hadn’t seen him in all of two days but she already missed him desperately.

When she knocked on the door, however, the elf that answered was unfamiliar to her.

“Yeah, wot is it?” the stranger asked.

“Oh, um.” Sylana blinked. “Hello. Is Aurelia in? Or Varania?”

“Don’t know no Aurania, miss.”

“No, Aurelia. She lives here, with her daughter?”

“Well not no more, I moved in today. My house now, miss.”

“Oh...well, do you know where they’ve gone?”

“No idea, miss. I uh,” the man pointed vaguely behind him into the house and closed the door without clarifying what he was pointing at.

Sylana glanced at Dru, who was now lying on her toes. “He was weird.” Her brow creased in thought. “Okay, maybe they got moved. Cause Leto has an important position. That makes sense, I suppose.”

“Mrow.”

“Siona might know where they are. She seems to know a lot about this place, right?”

“Mrow.”

Sylana crouched to scoop up the cat into her arms. “You know, you’re really not helpful. Why can’t you talk?”

“Mrow.”

“Yeah, okay. Let’s go find Siona.”


	9. Chapter 9

Weeks passed.  _ Weeks,  _ and Sylana had seen no sign of Leto. Nobody knew where he was. Anyone that she met that knew the family assumed that he had been released with his mother and sister, but Sylana knew he hadn’t. He was with Danarius, somewhere inside the manor, and he was being kept from her.

Every moment that she wasn’t tending to Hadriana or with her mother, Sylana spent in Adahl’las. Waiting. Despite knowing that Leto knew where her room was, that he would likely visit her there if he could, this was where she always ended up. Really, she hated being in her room. It reminded her of Hadriana, of the suffering and abuse that she was subjected to almost daily. There hadn’t been an outburst like that first—mostly because Sylana had become careful almost to the point of obsession to always be on time, always be polite, always be obedient—but Hadriana’s daily beratement and snide remarks and reminders of how hideous she found Sylana’s scars were taking their toll. It was almost worse than any singular attack.

She had her mother, and she had Dru, and they helped her to cope, but not in the way that Leto had. Ever since she met him, she had felt almost at home wherever she was, knowing that he was out there waiting for her. Now the only time she felt that was when she was with her mother. And even then, it wasn’t the same.

“You haven’t been eating, da’len.” 

Sylana snapped out of her thoughtful trance. Laelia was looking up from her knitting (a hobby she had picked up from Siona after the two had bonded over their concern for Sylana) and giving her daughter with a stern yet concerned expression.

“Yes I have,” Sylana muttered. That was a lie.

“Sylana I am your mother, I can see when you’re lying,” Laelia snapped. “And I can see how skinny you are. They better be feeding you up there.”

“They are, I just…” She shrugged. “I’m not hungry, I guess.” That was  _ not _ a lie. She was fed quite well, actually, but she’d found her appetite growing weaker and weaker as the weeks passed.

Laelia must have been able to read what—who—was on her mind, as she whispered “Oh, Syl…” and moved to embrace her daughter. 

“I just can’t stop thinking about him, Mamai…” Sylana murmured. She tried to keep the waver from her voice but failed miserably. “He said I wouldn’t see him for a while, but...it’s been so  _ long.” _

“Perhaps he was released with his mother like Siona said. Living happily with his family.”

“No. He would have told me if he was leaving.”

“And would he have wanted you to starve yourself on his account?”

No, of course not. Sylana could see him, giving her that look he had when he’d come to her after she was separated from her mother, when he’d learned she was serving Hadriana, when he’d seen her after Hadriana’s attack.  _ Sylana, you need to take care of yourself, _ he’d say. He’d offer to sneak her a pile of sticky buns from the bakehouse.

But the thought of what he  _ would _ do if he were here, and the reminder for the hundredth time that he  _ was not here _ made Sylana’s stomach turn in the same way that it did every time she tried to eat. Or tried to sleep. Or was just sitting there staring at the stars.

Her stomach just constantly felt like a fucking fish on dry land trying to make it back to water before it suffocated.

“I’ll try at dinner. I need to go wait for him, I’ll see you tomorrow Mamai.” She tried to ignore the mournful sigh that Laelia let out every time Sylana recited this exact line and left the room.

“Say hello to your orange critter for me,” Laelia said, with a touch of lightness to her voice that ever so slightly soothed Sylana’s anguish.

As she always was, Dru was waiting just outside the building. And as she always did, she wound her way between and around Sylana’s feet as they walked. Sylana liked to think this was Dru’s way of cheering her up, but of course cats didn’t actively try to  _ cheer up _ their owners. More likely it was just a little game the creature played to keep her reflexes honed, or...something.

“Mamai says hi.”

“Mrow.”

“Any new developments?”

“Mrow.”

“Wonderful. Very informative, thank you.”

“Mrow.” Sylana could have sworn that  _ mrow _ had an air of annoyance to it.

As Sylana was squeezing her way through the narrow entrance to the secret garden, she noted that it was significantly easier than it used to be and begrudgingly acknowledged that perhaps her mother was right and she really did need to start eating more. But as soon as she cleared the gap and looked up, she froze. Someone was waiting for her, but not who she had hoped. The  _ last _ person she would want to see here.

Hadriana.

“This is a lovely little retreat, isn’t it?” Hadriana said, taking a moment to look around. “How long has this been here?”

“Mistress!” Sylana fell into a deep bow, praying it hid the terror on her face. This garden had been a secret of the elves for generations and now it was compromised. Because of her.

Hadriana tapped her staff on one of the walls surrounding them. “This is quite fascinating, really. There’s some sort of magical barrier in place here. Undetectable from the outside, you tricky little creatures.” She turned to Sylana and let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh stand up, would you?” she barked.

“Yes, Mistress,” and Sylana obeyed. She tried her best to adopt the neutral expression that she forced upon herself when in Hadriana’s presence.

“All that bowing you do, so irritating,” Hadriana huffed, and moved towards Sylana at an agonizingly slow pace. Sylana braced herself for the assault that she was sure was coming, but all she got was a cruel grin. 

“Have fun waiting, darling,” Hadriana said in mock kindness, and transformed the exit gap to allow her passage.

Sylana fell to one knee, her breathing ragged. It was only when Dru approached her that she realized that the cat was nowhere to be seen until the moment Hadriana left the garden. But she was here now, nestling into Sylana’s hip with a reassuring purr.

“I don’t blame you,” Sylana croaked, “although I do envy you. I wish I could run away from her.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning: This chapter contains a scene of a character witnessing the death of a parent. It is quick and not graphic.

Danarius lived at the very heart of the manor. Elves that did not work there were forbidden, on threat of harsh punishment, from going anywhere near that area.

That wasn’t going to stop Sylana.

A full month had passed with absolutely no sign of Leto and she’d had it. No more waiting, no more wishing and praying, no more crying. She was going to find him.

“Alright, when was the last time Danarius was seen outside, uh...wherever it is he’s been?” Sylana asked.

“It’s been weeks,” said Caius.

“But you know he’s in there?”

“I know the girl that brings his meals. She’s seen him in there every day.” Good. That was exactly why Sylana had recruited Caius. He knew the manor so much better than she did.

“Did you ask about Leto?”

“Yes. No one matching his description, she says.”

“Kaffas…” Sylana paced to her window. Open, as it had been since the night Leto left—even on the coldest nights, it stayed open just a crack in case he came by. More than once she dreamed that he climbed in while she slept and woke her with a kiss to the forehead.

Dru followed her to the windowsill, seeing an opportunity for belly rubs. 

“I know he’s in there, Caius,” she whispered.

“So how do you plan to get in?”

“Um. Who said I wanted to get in?” 

“Sylana.”

“Well uh...I guess they were right?” she said sheepishly. Truth be told, she didn’t have any idea how to get in. She was hoping  _ he _ would have one. “Well...does this delivery girl happen to look like me?”

“Not at all.”

“Fine,” she huffed. “I’ll just walk in then. I don’t care.”

“That’s...what I was thinking, actually. I may be able to get the guards to leave.”

“What? How?”

“Just...trust me, I have an idea.”

“Well, I don’t have any better ideas.” Of course she didn’t exactly trust him. She trusted exactly three people, two of them could never know what she was doing and the third was the entire reason she was doing it. But Caius had been kind to her before and really, this did look to be her only shot at finding Leto. “Why are you even helping me, Caius? You know how stupid this is.”

“Oh, it’s idiotic. But…” Caius suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “My sister. She was captured, some time ago. She tried to escape.” 

“And you’re using me as a distraction to find her.”

He looked down and muttered, “Something like that.”

“Well...no matter, at least you’re helping.”

~~~

_ Right. Then left. Left again. Down the stairs, another left, another right. Through the door. _

_ Right, left, left, down, left, right, door. _

Sylana repeated it in her head again and again as she waited. Ten minutes for Caius to get into place, then she could go.

“Right, left, left, down, left, right, door.” She looked down to Dru. “You’ll have to stay here.”

“Mrow.” She nuzzled Sylana’s ankle.

A minute left. Sylana let out a deep sigh.

“Wish me luck, Dru,” and she left the relative safety of her room. She made her way through the halls and to the bottom of the stairs, no guards in sight. Caius had come through.

Sylana could feel her heart trying to escape through her throat, but she couldn’t turn back now. If there was any chance that Leto was ahead, she had to continue.

The long hallway she found herself in after descending the stairs did not look like it belonged in a mansion. The walls were made from filthy, jagged brick and only lined with enough torches to provide the barest minimum light. But on she marched and just as she was starting to think the hall might be enchanted to go on forever, a corner came into view.  _ One last right, through the door. _

Sylana turned the corner and...well there wasn’t a door, just a doorway. A single torch was mounted above but its light didn’t reach the other side. She was going in blind. After a moment of hesitation and several deep breaths, she stepped through. Immediately, a hand gripped her arm.

“Finally,” said a voice. A voice that she hadn’t heard in months.

But as her eyes adjusted to the darkness, as she was pulled further into the chamber by a painfully tight grip, her joy turned to confusion and confusion turned to dread as she frantically looked around for the source of the voice. Surely it wasn’t the...the  _ ghost _ in front of her.

“Leto?” she whispered.

For a fraction of a second, a faint blue glow emanated from the figure. “You will not talk,” it said.  _ He _ said.

No.  _ No. _

On they walked in darkness and silence until they arrived at a room, illuminated by magical motes of light in each corner. It was then that Sylana finally realized that what she had just been dragged through was a prison, and this room in particular looked an awful lot like a torture chamber. Among shackles and tool-filled tables stood two cages barely big enough to hold a standing elf, each containing a frail unidentifiable figure.

Between them, Sylana was not at all surprised to see Hadriana. From the moment she walked into that shadowed doorway and a hand grabbed her arm, she knew exactly who would be waiting for her within. And she knew she shouldn’t be surprised when she saw Caius standing beside the mage, but she was. She was surprised and she was furious that she had believed him to be some kind of friend.

“Ah at last, our little wolf has found prey!” Hadriana beamed.

Sylana ignored her. “Caius?” she called out, half shaming him for fooling her and half hoping, pleading that he would turn and jam a knife into Hadriana’s throat.

But he didn’t move, not even to look up at her.

That is, until Hadriana tossed something to the ground in front of him. “You may take her. But if she tries anything again, you’re both dead.”

Caius scrambled to retrieve the object and rushed to one of the cages. Unlocking the door, he crouched to pick up the almost skeletal girl who was whimpering and whispering his name. As he carried her out of the room, past Sylana, she heard a faint “I’m sorry” and he was gone. 

“Now! You little rule-breaking bitch.”

Sylana’s attention snapped back to Hadriana and the cold, cruel smile that was oh so fitting on the woman’s face. 

“You could have simply waited, I’m sure Danarius plans to parade him around once he’s all trained. But no, you had to snoop where you _do not belong_!” These last words broke through her composure, but in a moment her icy calm returned. “Clearly, punishing _you_ isn’t enough. Fenris, darling, bring the prisoner to me.”

The ghost that was not,  _ could not be _ Leto marched to the other cage and lifted the occupant to her feet. As she was pulled along, each movement that she made looked slow and laborious, except for one. With the strength that Sylana had admired her entire life, Laelia lifted her head to meet her daughter’s eyes. 

Everything fell away in that moment. Sylana felt nothing. No longing for the boy she’d come looking for. No shame for blindly trusting that Caius was a friend. No, not even sorrow for the mother that she knew she was about to lose. Her mind, body and soul were empty as the Void, but for the words that Laelia conveyed through her gaze.

_ Don’t be afraid, da’len. Everything will be alright. You will be alright. I love you. _

Hadriana took a handful of hair into her fist and lifted Laelia just far enough off the ground that she struggled to support her weight. “Maybe if I punish your whore of a mother instead, it will sink in!” she screamed and struck Laelia across the face with a clap of thunder.

“Kill me...if you must...but please...don’t...touch her…” Laelia’s voice was barely audible as if even the energy it took to expel air from her lungs was more than she had.

“Shut up! I  _ should _ have killed you before your bastard child was even born!” That calm icy stare turned into white hot rage and Sylana could see that Hadriana was  _ breaking. _ But still she felt empty. “What has she told you about your father, child? That they were oh so in love? Maybe that he died a noble death? Did she tell you that he was  _ mine?  _ That she  _ made me kill him  _ because he thought this whore was more important than me? More  _ desirable _ than me??”

Hadriana closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and when she opened her eyes again, they were perfectly locked with Sylana’s and the chill had returned. “Well I’ve had my fun,” she shrugged.

The room was lit up in a brilliant white light as sparks cascaded from the hand holding Laelia. Sylana watched as every muscle in her mother’s body tightened and relaxed in an instant. The hair in Hadriana’s fist burned away and Laelia’s body crumpled to the ground.

Sylana’s mother was dead.

Still, beyond all reason...she felt nothing.

“Fenris, take care of the child.”

She never thought that she would die at the hands of the boy that she loved so deeply. But then...perhaps she wasn’t going to. Because though she was staring into eyes that she knew so well, a stranger stared back at her as he plunged a glowing hand into her chest.


	11. Chapter 11

She woke up to a hand over her mouth. The sky above her was a dappled green blur. Leaves?

“Do not scream. Please. You are alive and you are safe.” The hand was cautiously removed from her mouth. “I slowed your heartbeat so you would appear dead and I brought you outside the walls.”

“What? Leto? Where am—oh…” Sylana’s eyes finally focused on the figure that sat over her and she remembered what had happened and  _ who _ this person was—or rather, wasn’t—and everything went numb. “My mother is dead.”

“Yes. I placed her nearby and...covered her. To the east.” Fenris’s expression was impossible to read, but Sylana could tell that he was avoiding her gaze.

“And you don’t know me. Do you? Fenris...” She knew the answer. Since hearing his voice, feeling his painful grip as he dragged her into darkness...no, long before that. When weeks and months passed with no sign of him, she knew that Leto was gone.

“No. I do not,” Fenris said.

“Then why didn’t you kill me??”

It was barely perceptible through his stoic demeanor, but Sylana could see Fenris flinch. “It felt...” he murmured. She watched his eyes wander down to his hand, momentarily glowing a dull blue. “It did not seem right.”

Sylana held her head in her hands, her mind simultaneously racing and utterly blank. “Please leave. Leave leave leave…” Her mouth repeated this word in gasps over and over and over as she sat shaking. “...leave leave leave leave...”

He stood to leave, but stopped and said “I am sorry about your mother.” before disappearing into the trees.

A second later, Sylana heard a rustling. “I told you to leave GET AWAY FROM ME!!” she screamed.

“Mrow.”

“Oh...Dru…you followed…” Sylana whispered, her fingers still clenched around her skull.

Dru wiggled her way onto Sylana’s lap and simply sat there, purring, as Sylana...sat. Not crying, not thinking, only sitting.

After...perhaps minutes, perhaps hours, Dru stood up and started walking away. She paused to look back. “Mrow.” She wanted Sylana to follow.

So she did. Sylana followed Dru through the trees until they came to a clearing—a small patch of grass and fallen leaves dotted with yellow flowers. Across the way, under a tree lay what appeared to be a simple pile of leaves, except for the wisps of black hair peeking through at the head.

“Thank you Dru…”

Sylana took a step towards her mother’s body. Another one. Smaller. She tried for a third but remained in place. 

“I...can’t. I don’t want to see her, Dru. I...already…” 

The image of her mother being twisted by electricity flashed in her mind and she desperately tried to picture her alive. Smiling. Her loving Mamai.

She didn’t want to see her, but she didn’t want to leave her either. So she sat, hugging her knees and staring at her mother’s covered body. She let out a silent thanks to...whoever Leto was now, for this small kindness.

She couldn’t tell if she had fallen asleep or simply zoned out, but suddenly Sylana realized how dark it was getting. and how hungry she was. Kaffas, she never ate breakfast.

“Mamai…” she whispered. “I have to go now. I need to find food. You would tell me to make sure I eat and...keep warm. I don’t know how to make a fire without a tinderbox but I’ll…” The lump in her throat was painful and she could hear her voice breaking. “I’ll figure it out, Mamai. I’ll survive, okay? And I’ll make you proud. Somehow.”

~~~

Someone was helping her. After her first night in the forest, spent eating what plants and insects she could find, trying and failing to light a fire, and falling asleep curled as tightly as possible to keep warm, Sylana woke to find a sizable pile of berries and a fire waiting for her.

On the second night the same happened, but a dead rabbit was left with the berries.

The third night, she finally figured out how to get her own fire started but when she woke in the morning, long after it should have died and gone cold, it was still burning.

For weeks, even as Sylana slowly learned to live off the forest, those small gestures remained. And then one night, she discovered who was behind them.

She was sitting in front her fire, whittling away at a stick with the dagger that her mystery guardian had left sometime in the second week. She barely heard it over the crackling of the fire, but something broke her focus and her ears perked at the sound of rustling leaves. Just as she stood to run, an arm hooked her waist from behind.

“Ha ha ha! You’re not going anywhere, meal ticket.”

Slavers.

Two more pushed through the trees in front of her.

“Oh boys, this one is cute. Why don’t we have some fun before w—”

His vile words were cut off by a great bellow and a mass of brown fur crashing through the trees.

“Bear!  _ BEAR!” _

The men in front of her disappeared into the forest, the one gripping her starting to run before his arm was clear of her torso and sylana tumbled to the ground. She tried to stand up, tried to get her feet under her so she could flee but terror kept her body planted firmly on the ground.

She was alone in the middle of the forest with a bear.

But as her mind battled to overcome her body and force her to  _ run, run, run!! _ the bear was...no longer a bear.

In the blink of an eye, with an audible  _ fwp _ , the animal had morphed into an elf. A pale, slim elf with the brightest orange hair, neatly swept to the side. He was dressed in some unknown finery and his eyes, bright  _ bright _ blue with pupils like a cat’s, were lined with black. Everything about him was just so  **_bright_ ** . “It’s alright, Sylana. I won’t hurt you,” he soothed.

“H—how do you know my name?” Sylana could feel panic trying to rise up in her, but something about this person’s presence was so...calming.

“Okay, see, here’s the thing,” he said with a sheepish, but pleading smile. “I’m your cat.”  _ Fwp.  _ The elf disappeared, and in his place stood a familiar orange cat.

It took a moment for Sylana to assemble the pieces of information that she’d just received. Her cat. This person had turned into  _ her cat _ . “Dru?” she whispered. 

Her cat. Was a person. Her mind was trying desperately to come up with some explanation other than ‘her cat was a person’ but none of them made sense. Or at least, everything that came to her was somehow  _ even more _ absurd than ‘her cat was a person’.

“ _ Dru?? _ You’re a  _ person?” _

“Ah, yes.” Dru said, after shifting back to the elven form. “I didn’t want to...I wanted to wait until you were...less stressed? A bit more used to—” He gestured to the forest around them. “—to tell you. But uh...some bastards needed scaring off.”

“You’re a mage?” Fear filled her as something occurred to her. “Did the Mas—”

“No no no! Fade, no. If your so-called ‘Masters’ had sent me, you’d be...well, nevermind. I’m a spirit!” The bright elf grinned, arms spread wide. “But that’s for later, come! If we hurry we can steal their stuff before they find their way back to their camp!” He winked at her and set off through the trees.

“Ah! w-wait!” Sylana quickly gathered her meager belongings—there was no way she was staying in that spot any longer—and followed elf-Dru as he led her through the trees “Dru, what is...wait, is that your name?  _ I _ gave you that name.”

“Oh!” The elf turned around and bowed dramatically, rising with a grin. “I call this form Fel. Nice to properly meet you, Sylana. Now! Let’s steal from some slavers, shall we?” And he started skipping, actually  _ skipping _ through the forest.

The slaver camp that they found was meager, not much more than a circle of bedrolls and a pile of supply packs, but it was significantly more than Sylana had.

“Ah!” Fel pointed to a pile of weapons. “Grab that bow, I’ll teach you how to use it so you can eat more than berries and leaves.”

Sylana’s ears lowered a bit. She wasn’t...terribly fond of the idea of killing something. “You can turn into a bear. Can’t you hunt for me?” she asked.

“Uh...no. All bark, no bite, as they say. You know that rabbit I left you? I was stalking a fox all night waiting for it to kill something so I could steal it.”

“But...you know how to use a bow? A weapon. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Doesn’t it? When one is several hundred years old, one gets bored, and archery is fun,” Fel grinned.

“Several hundred?? And one day you just decide to hang out with a teenage girl?”

“Ah. That is a long story.” Fel tilted his head, looking off into the distance. “Actually, no it’s not. I’m a spirit of nurture and I’ve spent my life watching over folk that might need a little bit more of that. My previous...ward died—a happy death, ‘twas old age that took him—so I found you!” 

“And since then you’ve been...my guardian.” And Sylana realized, her mysterious benefactor had finally made themself known. “You were the one leaving me things,” she whispered. Of course. This cat-spirit-person really  _ had _ been with Sylana through everything, hadn’t they? From...the moment she met Leto. 

“You were hoping it was someone else,” Fel guessed.

She didn’t offer a response. Judging from Fel’s tone, he didn’t need one. “It’s good to know I’m not alone,” she whispered.

“You’ll never be alone again, if I have anything to say about it. As for the  _ someone else  _ that left you that dagger...I suspect he also wants you safe and sound.”

Sylana’s heart skipped and a lump grew in her throat. But even if she wanted to, she couldn’t have cried. Now—here, in the middle of a slaver camp—was not the time or place for a breakdown, even one born of gratitude.

In the end, the two left the camp with a fair number of items that would make wilderness survival somewhat bearable—but not before tossing the rest of the slavers’ belongings in a fire.


	12. Epilogue

An orange-breasted songbird flitted through the branches, coming to land on a bare one several meters above the ground.

“Anything?” Sylana whispered.

Fel spread his wings and fluffed his chest feathers.

“Kaffas.” Sylana sunk back against the crook that she’d wedged herself into, mindlessly rubbing at the lightning-shaped scar on the side of her head. Hadriana’s _gift_ from her assault months earlier, long since healed but still very visible. “Not even a rabbit? I’ve been practicing for _weeks,_ I bet I could hit a moving one this time.”

Fel hopped a few times, pivoting back and forth.

“No you haven’t seen one, or no I couldn’t hit it?”

He only repeated the motion and gave a mischievous chirp—Sylana didn’t know for a fact that it was mischievous, but this one seemed particularly cheeky. Maker, she was going to be an expert in animal communication if she spent any more time with this one-spirit menagerie.

“Oh would you just talk to me?” Sylana snapped.

The bird _fwp_ ed into Fel’s elven form. “My, we _do_ need to get you fed,” he chuckled. “I’ll steal you something when night falls, don’t worry.”

Sylana groaned. “It’s been ages since I’ve ha—”

“ _Shh._ ”

Fel threw a hand over her mouth and pointed several meters ahead of them. Two figures on horseback travelled leisurely along the road. In the front, a robed man with a staff slung along his back and trailing close behind him, a white-haired elf.

Sylana’s eyes widened and her heart doubled its pace. Without a thought, she had her bow in hand, arrow nocked, string drawn, aimed at the magister’s chest.

That’s where her arrow pointed, but her eyes were locked on Fenris. As soon as her bow was drawn, she saw his ears prick and his head turn to look directly at her. Straight into her eyes. His head twitched quickly, barely, from one side to the other. _Don’t do it._

Her leading arm dropped a fraction. She kept the string drawn.

 _Why? Why shouldn’t I? I can hit him. I’ve been practicing. I can kill that monster and I can set you free. You can live in the forest with me. You’d be_ **_free!_ **

As if he could hear her, he shook his head again, more deliberate.

“Sylana,” Fel warned.

“I can kill him.” She was surprised to hear the pain in her own voice.

“You know you can’t. Even if your aim was perfect, I’m sure he has a barrier up. You know this is a bad idea, Syl.”

Sylana finally unnocked the arrow and her arms dropped to her side. At this, Fenris simply nodded and returned his gaze ahead.

“Let’s go,” Fel whispered, and morphed into the orange-breasted bird, ready to follow.

It took all of Sylana’s strength not to scream in agony and rage. Instead, taking one last look at the man she used to know, she dropped silently from her perch and ran further into the forest. She ran and ran and ran until her building tears turned her vision into a blur of browns and greens. She collapsed against a tree, panting for breath, the panic welling up inside her turning her panting into hyperventilating. Sylana fell to her hands and knees and the shaking began as her body flooded itself with too much oxygen and—

No.

_No._

The scream that she’d suppressed exploded from her throat. All the rage and sorrow and pain that Sylana’s mind had kept locked away from the moment she realized Leto was gone, from the moment she saw the life leaving her mother’s body, from the moment she woke and realized this _ghost_ that replaced the boy she loved hadn’t done her the mercy of killing her, it all made itself known in that moment. She grabbed her dagger from her belt and began brutalizing the trees around her. Stabbing, screaming, slashing, sobbing.

With every last bit of strength drained from her and her legs on the brink of giving out, Sylana felt Fel’s arms wrap around her and guide her to the soft forest floor.

At the start of her freedom, Sylana had decided to stay around the manor, in hopes that...well, she didn’t really know. That Fenris would visit her? That he would escape and find her so they could run away together? That she could simply _catch a glimpse_ of him once or twice? This was the third time that the latter had happened, though the first two had only been small glimpses from afar.

Each time had been just as painful.

“I can’t stay here, Fel…” Sylana whispered. “Seeing him hurts so much…”

“I know, love.” Fel gave her a gentle squeeze. “Let’s rest now and set off come nightfall, shall we?”

So they left.

At first, they travelled south along the Minrathous peninsula with a tentative goal of the Free Marches. Sylana knew nothing about it, other than the fact that they didn’t keep slaves. That, and she liked that “free” was in the name. 

Fel’s shapeshifting proved invaluable in travel; bird for scouting, horse for when Sylana got tired of walking, cat for stealing some food in towns. They moved at a leisurely pace, making good progress, until a terrifyingly close call with a group of slavers sent them fleeing. 

They ended up in a small port town, and it was there that Fel had an idea.

“Syl, this won’t work if you don’t get in the box.”

Sylana grumbled. “It’s so small.”

“So are you.” Fel smiled. Well, he wasn’t Fel. He was a very unremarkable-looking human dock worker. “It won’t be for long, love. As soon as the ship is off, I’ll get you out.”

“Fine...this better be worth it…” She crawled her way into the crate and tried, very unsuccessfully, to get comfortable.

“It will be, I promise.” Fel momentarily shifted his face back to the one that Sylana knew and gave her the biggest grin. “One little ship ride and you’ll be free and clear to live your life. See you in a bit.” He placed the lid on her crate and Sylana was alone in darkness.

As she felt the crate being lifted into the cargo hold of the ship, Sylana tried to distract herself from the intrusive thoughts that had been plaguing her when she was alone. She’d found the best trick for this was running happy memories through her head. So she closed her eyes and queued up the day she’d first met Leto, trying to recall as much wonderful detail as she could until Fel came back for her.

Soon enough they would be on their way to a place where, hopefully, Sylana would be safe: Seheron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for reading! This thing is a good 2 or 3 years in the making and I am genuinely surprised I stuck with it this long.   
> But this is not the end of Sylana and Fenris’s story! I’m slowly working on Part 2, Moonlight and will start publishing once I have ~5 chapters written, so keep an eye out!


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